


The Chilling Adventures of Steve Rogers: Part One (Magical Hydra Horror AU)

by loveforpreserumsteve



Series: The Chilling Adventures of Steve Rogers [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awesome Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel), Hydra (Marvel), Hydra Steve Rogers, M/M, Magical, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Uncle Loki (Marvel), Uncle Thor (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2020-10-24 13:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 67
Words: 67,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20706521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveforpreserumsteve/pseuds/loveforpreserumsteve
Summary: "As though his feet were controlled by something other than himself, Steve stepped out of the trees. Not paying attention to any of the other figures standing as still as statues, Steve crossed the well-lit area. His eyes roamed over the boy.He was taller with a fit, muscular frame. A frame that Steve had never possessed, but had dreamed about being housed in all his life. The boy was the embodiment of perfect. With golden tan skin and caramel colored freckles that dusted his broad shoulders, Steve felt dizzy.This was everything that Steve wanted. This was everything that Steve had been promised. A strong, capable body that would be his as soon as he signed his name in Hydra's book. Signed away his life for the cause. Become another one of Alveus' minions. Be another hive-mind."-Modern Stucky AU-Smut and other mature content-This is my first horror fic, so fingers crossed it goes well!***I don't own Marvel or the characters of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, nor any of the other Marvel characters





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> To keep up-to-date with everything that's going on in my life, my fics, and to see cute pictures of my pets, be sure to follow me on [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/loveforpreserumsteve/)
> 
> I've also self-published [Call It What You Want](https://www.amazon.com/Call-What-Want-Minnie-Nicole/dp/1986446255/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=call+it+what+you+want+minnie+nicole&qid=1601172728&sr=8-1)
> 
> And if you would like some to purchase some merch based off of loveforpreserumsteve fanfics and Minnie Nicole Books, you can get them at [The Fanfic Was Better](https://teespring.com/stores/thefanficwasbetter)
> 
> Much love and appreciation  
Minnie ❤❤❤

**One:**

Steve was running through the woods. The moon high above, brightly shining down and illuminating just enough for Steve to dodge the crowding trees. With bare feet, Steve stepped on twigs, snapping them in half. Not sure whether it was the sticks or stones along the forest floor, but feeling his feet cut open. Getting dirt in the open wounds on the bottom of his feet, but he didn't stop. He couldn't.

Was he running from something or to something? Steve didn't know. All he knew was that he had to keep going. Even with his asthmatic lungs dying for air and his stomach harshly clenching from how long he had been running.

In the darkness, Steve felt something breathing on the back of his neck and he pushed harder. Running from something then. His feet hitting the ground harsher than before as his heart pounded in his chest, pumping blood through his body and blocking out all other noise.

It wasn't unusual for someone to be chasing after Steve. He was no picnic with his mouthy comments and wet cat attitude. It was a wonder that he had any friends at all. It was even more of a wonder that the cutest boy in school was his boyfriend and stayed with him after Steve rose the hackles of everyone else who knew him.

Which was why this was unusual. Steve didn't run away from a fight. Never. He stood his ground and fought for what was right. So, since Steve was running…

_Keep going_, Steve told himself, jumping over a log that had fallen to the forest floor. Even though everything in him was screaming for him to stop, he kept pushing forward.

Up ahead, the first thing that Steve saw was a large, roaring fire. It's bright flames reaching up for the sky and revealing a group of people around the fire. At the sight of people, Steve slid to a stop.

Hiding in the dark cover that the trees provided, Steve watched as the teens joyously danced around. Flimsy nightgowns and old-timey nightshirts fluttered in the breeze and from their movements. Boys and girls who appeared familiar, though Steve couldn't recall them, laughing and singing. Unnerving Steve the longer he watched.

Then, within a blink of an eye, the teens stood still, facing the flames as though they had never been moving to begin with. Their arms raised above their heads, outstretched towards the starless night sky. Their mouths moving as they chanted words that Steve couldn't decipher.

The longer he stood still, hiding, the more his body begged him to run. To leave. To remain unseen from these people. And he would've listened to his sore muscles and racing heart, if he hadn't lost his breath at the sight of one teen in particular.

As though his feet were controlled by something other than himself, Steve stepped out of the trees. Not paying attention to any of the other figures standing as still as statues, Steve crossed the well-lit area. His eyes roamed over the boy.

He was taller with a fit, muscular frame. A frame that Steve had never possessed, but had dreamed about being housed in all his life. The boy was the embodiment of perfect. With golden tan skin and caramel colored freckles that dusted his broad shoulders, Steve felt dizzy.

This was everything that Steve wanted. This was everything that Steve had been promised. A strong, capable body that would be his as soon as he signed his name in Hydra's book. Signed away his life for the cause. Become another one of Alveus' minions. Be another hive-mind.

The boy that Steve would become. The boy that stood in front of him underneath the full moon, opened his eyes. Gasping, Steve stumbled backward. Two empty eye sockets watched Steve; trained on him.

Before Steve could scream or start running again, Steve was shoved from behind. Shoved into the strong body that would soon belong to him. Steve jerked, his eyes snapped open as he fell to the floor. The floor. Ancient hardwood floor that instantly comforted Steve.

Heart still racing, Steve rolled over and stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. He wasn't in the forest. He had never been in the forest. He was home. He was safe. _It was only a dream_.

_It was only a dream_.


	2. Two

**Two:**

"Meow," Goose complained from Steve's bed, stretching out on the twisted, sweat-soaked sheets.

"Oh," Steve blew out a raspberry to show his contempt as he waved Goose's complaint away.

Sitting up, Steve untangled his twisted, sweat drenched sleep shirt and pajama pants from the sheets and tossed his blue garment on his bed. The material landed on Goose, causing him to hiss in annoyance and Steve would've loved to let him figure his own way out of the fabric, but caved. Just as he always did when it came to Goose. Indulging the protective pet by scratching the animal between his ears.

Half-heartedly, Steve eyed the orange tabby while muttering, "Damn Flerken."

Goose meowed again and headbutted Steve's hand, wanting more affection. Caving, Steve huffed a sigh and took a seat on his bed. Allowing the creature disguised as a cat climb onto his petite, weak frame. As it happened to turn out, petting Goose always eased Steve. It always had.

Yawning, Steve glanced down at his feet. His dirty, mud and blood covered feet. Sitting as straight as he could with his scoliosis riddled spine, Steve darted his gaze in his dark room. Trying to see in the hidden nooks and crannies. As though someone else was in the room with him. However, Steve couldn't see a damn thing without his glasses.

Moving to grab them from the bedside table, Steve inadvertently annoyed Goose. Causing him to jump off Steve's lap with an angry, "Meow," tossed over at Steve. Rolling his eyes, Steve slid the thick, vintage style brown framed glasses up the bridge of his nose. Quickly looking around the room.

Steve's gaze lingering on the corner of the room. Behind the worn leather armchair that had belonged to his dad. A man that Steve had never met, but pretended was still there watching over him.

A figure forming in the shadow the longer Steve stared didn't feel like his imagination. His heart jumped into his throat when he swore he saw something glint in the moonlight streaming in through his sheer curtains. Perhaps a tooth. Perhaps this was a beast. Perhaps it would gobble --

"Stevie," his Uncle Thor's voice quietly sing-songed, "Wakey, wakey."

And just like that, with a flip of the switch, the boogeyman disappeared. Steve kept his gaze trained on that corner of the room for a moment longer as Thor spotted him and chuckled, "Dear boy, what have you been up to?"

"Nothing," Steve immediately answered, turning his attention from the corner of his room to his open doorway.

Thor's brows were furrowed in concern as he studied Steve's dirty feet. Thor nodded to himself as he started back down the hallway, he called over his shoulder, "I'll get the bath salt."

With a sigh, Steve flopped on his back and stared at the ceiling. _What a wonderful way to start this glorious day_. Removing his glasses, Steve scrubbed at his face. This was an omen. Steve was sure of it. And a bad one, at that.

For a moment, those empty eye sockets from his dream haunted him. Almost like they could see him. See right through him. Down to his soul. The soul that would belong to Hydra sooner than he would've ever preferred.

"Now, while you're soaking away, I'll make breakfast," Thor's deep voice boomed down the hallway, reaching Steve's room before his body did.

Sitting up, Steve slipped his glasses back on just in time to catch the glass jar of homemade bath salt that smelled like a pair of Bucky's zayde's sweaty socks. Playfully twisting his face in disgust, Steve dramatically held the jar away from himself.

"Enough of that," Thor endearingly scolded. Gesturing to the side towards the ensuite, he ordered his nephew, "Now get to it. You don't want to be late for school."

"School schmool," Steve sassed, standing from his bed. Crossing his room on dirty feet, Steve picked out his clothes for the day and tried to ignore the way his heart clenched in his chest. Soon, Steve wouldn't be worrying about whether he was late for school.

Thor pulled the soiled sheets and quilt from Steve's bed. Looking over the mess, he mused, "Perhaps one bath won't be enough. I'll make you a pouch to take to school."

"Whatever you think is best," Steve muttered, entering his bathroom and getting to work.

Running the bath water, Steve actively avoided his reflection. _Not that there's much to look at anyway_, that little bitter voice reminded him. The voice that Hydra had put there. The voice that assured him that soon he'd have a better body. A body that the world will love. But more importantly, the body that would be able to protect others.

Taking a handful of the pungent salt in his hand, he held the concoction under the running faucet. Trying to keep his mind blank as the tub filled. After all, it'd be completely moot if he soaked in all of his negativity. Would be completely counterproductive.

Once the bath was full enough, Steve stepped into the just shy of scolding water. Sliding down, Steve imagined the hex washing from his skin. Every time he ran the loofah over a body part. Every time that he took in a breath. Allowing himself to cleanse his body as well as his aura.

_Today will be a good day_, suds forming on his pale skin. _Today is Thursday_, rinsing, he reminded himself, _Bucky always wears blue on Thursdays, dork_. Climbing from the tub, Steve refrained from toweling himself off. Knowing that it worked best when one air-dried. He pulled the plug from the antique, claw foot tub, and cupped his hands to scoop some water.

Facing away from the direction of the rising sun, Steve tossed the water over his left freckled shoulder and deadpanned, "Hail Hydra."


	3. Three

**Three:**

Dressed in a soft, blood red sweater and as ready for the day as he would ever be, Steve dragged himself down the stairs. Walking down the hallway, classic rock music could be heard with Uncle Thor singing along. Filling the morning air was a sweet smell that wrapped around Steve like a warm blanket and instantly caused Steve's stomach to grumble.

"'_She's just a devil woman. With evil on her mind_,'" Thor accompanied Cliff Richard while flipping a slice of French toast. Bopping his head, "'_Beware the devil woman. She's gonna get you_.'"

As Steve walked around the kitchen island, he passed the stove where Thor was. Just as always, Thor leaned to the side, and Steve kissed his cheek. Making sure to take the plate set off to the side. Carrying the plate over to the table, Steve wondered how he'd eat the large stack of lemon French toast that was artistically topped with a homemade blueberry syrup and whipped cream.

Taking a seat at the old oak table, Uncle Loki asked from behind the paper, "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine," Steve lied, shoving a large bite of French toast in his mouth before he could be called out on his bluff.

Even though, Loki bent the paper and peered over at his nephew with a knowing quirk of his brow. Steve averted his gaze, clearly giving himself up, as he always did. Satisfied, Loki flipped his paper back up and remarked, "One would think you'd learn how to lie better by now."

"Brother," Thor warned, pointing the spatula at Loki. Thor stated, "Those aren't lessons we want to teach him."

"It's a good craft to master," Loki evenly clarified, never removing his eyes from the paper.

"How is dishonesty a good --"

"In case he needs to talk himself out of --"

"Just because you choose to lie --"

"Just because you're a boy scout --"

"-- Must you always use that against me?! 

"When it comes to proving my point, ye--"

"You stabbed me, wasn't that en--"

"Oh, for Hive's sake," A pleasing voice boomed from the doorway. The room's attention snapped over to Cousin Hildy. Her wavy black hair tangled, the stretched out collar of her faded black band tee hanging off her shoulder, and the ratty rabbit slippers with the floppy ears were stained by red splotches. Either it was blood or wine. Whatever it was though, it was clear that Hildy was hungover.

Dropping herself into a black upholstered chair at the dark stained table, Hildy complained, "Can you two go five minutes without fighting? Or talking about poor Steve as though he's not even in the room."

Steve smirked at his cousin, only for her to wink at him with her smeared makeup eye. Shoving another bite of his lemon French toast into his mouth, Steve heard Uncle Loki comment, "Perhaps a nice cup of tea before bed will work."

"Yes, a lavender and lemon leaf tea should do the trick," Thor mused, carrying over a plate of French toast for Hildy. Thor stroked his fingers through Steve's hair and confirmed to himself, "Might even stop you from wandering tonight."

Loki set his paper down at that. His brows slightly furrowing together as he asked the petite blond, "You've been wandering again?"

It wasn't often that Loki allowed others to see his emotions. Typically choosing to wear an expressionless mask or a smirk dripping in false mirth. Seeing the clear concern on his uncle's face, Steve's stomach dipped as he reasoned, "It was just a dream."

"Dear boy, you know better than that," Loki sighed, reaching forward to affectionately cup Steve's cheek. Only holding Steve's cheek for a moment, Loki leaned back in his chair and suggested, "Perhaps we should visit Herr Schmidt. Give you some peace of mind in the meantime."

As Loki shook his paper out and brought it back up in front of his face like a curtain, Thor crossed to the stove again, softly returning to his singing. Once Steve left for the procedure, he knew he'd miss this. Glancing over at his cousin, Steve's gaze locked with Hildy's and she teasingly scrunched her face in distaste as she mouthed, "Don't do it."

"A visit with Herr Schmidt would do you some good, too, Brunnhilde," Loki declared, not looking at her.

Still having Steve's gaze, Hildy playfully rolled her eyes. Causing a large grin to stretch across Steve's face as Hildy dug into the stack of lemon French toast in front of her. Steve settled in the moment, wishing that he didn't have to leave them soon.

Overhead, the doorbell chimed and Steve snapped to attention. Quickly standing from the table, he took his plate to the sink and rushed about the room like a chicken missing it's head. Making sure to give each of his family members a kiss, just like he did every morning. Maybe lingering for a moment longer as he slipped on his jacket and grabbed his backpack before crossing the house to the front door.


	4. Four

**Four:**

Opening the door, Steve was greeted by none other than the one and only, Bucky Barnes. On his way towards future valedictorian. Compassionate cat -- Flerken -- sitter. Cutest boy in school. Everything that a boy next door with Old Hollywood looks was expected to be. Including a great kisser.

Just as he did every other morning that he picked Steve up for school, Bucky pressed a sweet kiss to Steve's lips. Steve knew that out of everything that he would miss once he left, he'd miss this the most. So, Steve pushed the approaching deadline out of his mind and laced his fingers with Bucky's.

Skipping the last step like a child, Bucky cheerfully hopped down from the large wrap around porch and waited for Steve to catch up. As they crunched over the fallen red and orange leaves, Bucky asked, "Are you ready for Coulson's test?"

"Sure," Steve yawned as Bucky dropped his hand to open the passenger door to his hand-me-down dark green 1970-something Chevrolet Cheyenne truck. Playfully, Steve rolled his eyes at Bucky's chivalrous gesture and climbed into the truck. Making sure to place a sweet kiss on Bucky's check as he did so.

Closing the door once Steve was settled, Bucky headed around the front with a large grin on his handsome face. Steve tried not to think about how much he'd miss that. How much he'd miss Bucky as a whole. Especially the way Bucky took Steve's hand in his and brought their linked hands up to his mouth to press a sweet kiss to the back of Steve's hand.

"So, I was thinking," Bucky started, backing out of the Odinson house drive and onto the street. Steve kept his gaze on the sign in the front yard that read_, Nine Realms Antiques_, and squeezed Bucky's hand, showing him that he was listening. So, Bucky continued, "Maybe we could go apple picking."

"Apple picking?" Steve repeated, turning his gaze from the colorful Autumn tree-lined street to his boyfriend.

"Yeah," Bucky confirmed with an easy grin. Teasingly, Bucky shook Steve's arm and added, "See all the pretty colors. Maybe lose our way through a corn maze. Maybe even cuddle and drink some hot cider."

The more Bucky spoke, the more Steve's smile slipped from his face. His brows furrowing together as he started thinking about how nice all of that sounded. Thinking about how it sounded like a good day. About how Steve wanted nothing more than to do that.

Reading the room, Bucky amended, "Unless you don't want to."

Still stuck in his head, Steve shook his head and said, "No."

"It was just a thought," Bucky continued and reassured, "But we don't have to."

"No," Steve repeated, scowling through the windshield to his future because it had a real way of messing everything up.

Realizing that he just told Bucky that he didn't want to do that, Steve snapped out of his thoughts and quickly corrected, "I want to."

Halting at the stop sign, Bucky glanced over at Steve, "If you're agreeing just to make me happy, we're gonna have a real problem, pal."

"James Barnes, when, in the past thirteen years of us knowing each other, have I ever done that?" Steve challenged, quirking a brow at his boyfriend.

Bucky fought the grin that was trying to break free on his face and lost as he corrected, "Fourteen. It's gonna be fourteen years. Remember? I met you on your second birthday."

"Right," Steve confirmed, his brows deeply furrowing as a frown overtook his face. Glaring at the dashboard as he mumbled, "How could I forget?"

"Might be going senile in your old age, punk," Bucky teased, letting go of Steve's hand to ruffle his blond hair.

Feigning annoyance, Steve pushed Bucky's hand from his head, but he couldn't hide the fond grin on his face and he complained in jest, "Keep both hands on the wheel, jerk."

"You love me," Bucky beamed with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Tips of his ears burning, Steve shoved at Bucky's shoulder and muttered, "Jerk."

Bucky simply took Steve's hand in his again and laced their fingers together. Even though neither had confessed _those_ words to each other, Steve was certain that Bucky knew that he did. Love him, that is. After all, they had clicked from the first moment they met on Steve's second birthday. It was a simple Halloween party at Carter's Daycare where Bucky, dressed as a vampire with his brown hair slicked back and a white painted face and red lipstick, toddled over to Steve, who had been dressed as a classic black bat with wide fabric wings, sat off to the side looking at picture books.

Despite himself, Thor had claimed, "Destiny." While Loki unhappily cursed, "Trouble."

From that day on, the pair had been inseparable. Going through childhood as best friends. Full of sleep overs and birthday parties and shared classes. Steve wasn't sure when exactly he fell in love with Bucky along the way, but he knew that when Bucky kissed him on his fourteenth birthday, it felt right. Deep his bones, it did.

Which made the looming deadline fill Steve up with so much dread that it made him sick. It shouldn't have, but it did. And Steve knew that it was because of Bucky Barnes and his stupid affection.


	5. Five

**Five:**

Sitting at his desk in Pym's physics class, Steve idly doodled in his notebook. Mindlessly, his hand moved about the paper as he tried to set himself right. It shouldn't have been nearly as difficult to do so. After all, he knew that he wanted to make a difference. Steve wanted to help others and make the world a better place. And he knew that the only way to do that would be to join the rest of his family in Hydra.

Hydra ruled the world. They hid just behind the scenes and puppeteered the intricacies of the world. Scientist, doctors, and teachers. Powerful politicians and lower-ranking do-gooders. Activists groups and just every day schmoes, like Steve's uncles. Like their late sister, Steve's mom, Hela.

But that rock in the pit of Steve's stomach was still heavy with dread. Steve knew that on his sixteenth birthday, he'd fully integrate into Hydra. Not only would he be undergoing the procedure for a new, powerful body that aligned more with the strength of his families. But he'd also be shipped off to a school to better practice the powers he inherited. The magical abilities that he hardly ever practiced because they reminded him of what the future held.

Steve would've liked to think that, come his sixteenth birthday, he'd be able to leave the mundane of his former life behind and happily embrace his new life. And perhaps he would've if it wasn't for --

The school bell chimed loudly overhead, signaling that class was over. Packing up his items, Steve found Sam lingering around the doorframe for him. Slinging his bag over his slender shoulder, Steve pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and tried not to get emotional as he crossed the room to Sam. Sam was another person he'd have to give up.

"Why the long face?" Sam questioned, gripping onto his own backpack strap. Nudging him with a gentle elbow to the ribs, Sam teased, "Bucky didn't give you an in between class kiss?"

"Ha ha," Steve playfully rolled his eyes and nudged his shoulder in to Steve's taller frame.

"Okay," Sam chuckled, placing his arm around Steve's petite frame. The air shifting into one less playful, but not any less caring as Sam asked, "So, what's up?"

"Nothing," Steve answered, letting his gaze land on the rows of lockers as they approached his own.

"C'mon, dude. There's clearly something up. So, what is it? Maybe I can help," Sam encouraged, squeezing Steve just a bit closer before dropping his arm entirely.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Steve thought about all the repercussions if he so much as _hinted_ about what was truly bothering him. After all, the witch hunts of the past were still a very real thing in other parts of the world. As the world had shown over and over again, when people feared the unknown, they turned violent.

Besides, Steve wanted this. Really, he did. He wanted to fit in with his family. He wanted to be healthy. He wanted to be good and do good. He wanted to save the world. And the only way to do that was to follow his family, embrace his destiny, and become a part of Hydra.

"I just didn't sleep well," Steve answered instead, sagging in his fatigue as he opened his locker.

Sam leaned against the other lockers beside Steve's and empathetically sighed, "That most definitely sucks."

"You're telling me," Steve scoffed, letting out a deep breath and just taking a moment to blankly look at his open locker. On the inside of the door, there were pictures of Steve with Bucky, and some with their friends, held in colorful magnetic frames. Inside, Bucky's worn leather jacket hung on one of the hooks, crammed in tight beside Steve's Sherpa faux lining tan corduroy jacket. The bottom shelf held Steve's books while Bucky claimed the top shelf since he could actually reach it.

"So," Sam started, watching Steve, "What kept you up?"

Steve shook his head, he couldn't talk about it. Not even with himself. Instead, he tried to bury all his negativity deep down within himself. Maybe he could write about it and burn it up, so no one else could read it? Maybe he could scream it out in a pillow? Or maybe he could talk to Hil--

Arms wrapped around his small torso and lifted him in the air. Steve let out a startled gasp and turned his head to find Bucky. Jovially, Bucky pressed a passionate, playful kiss to the side of his neck as he set Steve down on the ground.

With a smile on his face, Steve spun around to face his boyfriend. Trying to remain stern, Steve swatted at Bucky and asked, "James Buchanan, what are you trying to do?! Give me a heart attack?!"

"Ooh, you just got middle named," scandalized, Sam teased.

But the large grin stayed glued to Bucky's face as he ducked down and affectionately wrapped Steve up in his arms while nuzzling into Steve's neck. Knowing that Steve could never stay made at him when he acted so cute. Which was the reason why Bucky acted as adorable as he could. Gaining that fond grin of Steve's every time in the process. Just as he did now.

Pulling back, Bucky kept his arms protectively around Steve's waist and grinned, "You love me."

The blush burning deep on Steve's cheeks, he corrected falsely, "I hate you."

"Yeah, okay," Bucky playfully rolled his eyes and leaned in to press a sweet, chaste kiss to Steve's lips. Appeasing the blond in all the ways that stopped Steve's head from thinking about everything bad that was sure to come.


	6. Six

**Six:**

"That's it!" Sharon exclaimed, harshly dropping the current novel she was reading onto the table. Plopping into the cafeteria chair in front of Steve as she promised, "I'm never getting married! Ever!"

"Um," Steve started, sitting up in his seat and reaching over his brown paper bag to examine the paperback.

From beside him, Bucky questioned, "What?"

"Marriage," Sharon indignantly clarified, "Is a sham."

"Not every marriage," Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His arm was resting on the back of Steve's chair and he reached up to give Steve's shoulder a comforting squeeze.

At that comment, Steve looked up from the cover of Ira Levin's _The Stepford Wives_ and blinked. Was Bucky implying that they would get married one day? Did Bucky really think about them like that? Of him like that?

Glancing back at Bucky, Steve found him purposely avoiding eye contact with him. It dawned on Steve then that, yes, Bucky did think about that. Steve's heart stuttered in his chest as he redirected his attention to the old, weathered paperback in his hands.

Worrying his lower lip, Steve's mind raced with images of a future with Bucky. A shaky hand as he kneeled in front of Steve, offering him a shiny ring along with his heart. Only months of courting because they had been in love practically all their lives. A small gathering; Bucky in a sharp suit waiting at the end of the aisle for Steve. Steve walking much faster than he intended to reach Bucky and proclaim his love for that dork, _his_ dork, in front of all their loved ones. How proudly Bucky would stomp on the covered, thin wine glass to symbolize that they would forever be changed.

It took Steve a moment to realize that Sharon was talking. It took another moment for him to actually start listening.

"All I'm saying is that the only people I've ever witnessed to be actually happily married were my Great Aunt Peggy and Great Uncle Daniel," Sharon shrugged and crossed her arms along her chest. Letting the other three members of the table know that she wasn't going to be swayed.

Bucky was rubbing smoothing circles into Steve's slender shoulder. Steve wondered if Bucky even realized that he was doing it to begin with. It was such a tender gesture that Steve couldn't convince himself to think of it as anything but mindless. There was, after all, no reason why Bucky would choose to purposely be so transparent.

However, Bucky did hint about --

The air shifted. Almost like molasses was poured directly into his veins, Steve noticed how slow everything around him was. Even his own heartbeat was moving at a slower, harsher pace than it typically did due to his tachycardia. Fear caused goose bumps to rise on his skin and for the hair at the back of his neck to rise.

Glancing up, Steve noticed the inhuman way that Sharon was smiling at him from across the table. Now with lifeless eyes and a voice that didn't belong to her, she mocked, "You know he doesn't mean it, right?"

Closing his eyes, Steve desperately attempted to settle his breathing. All the while, the deep, echoey voice continued, "He wants to have a family. He can't have that with you. You're too sick. You're too fragile. He'd end up taking care of you. He'd have to watch you wither in pain and slowly die each day until all the joy in his life was gone. He doesn't deserve that type of cruel and unusual punishment."

Steve slightly shook his head, wanting nothing more than for this to end. Wanting nothing more for him to be back in the moment. Be where Sharon was complaining about the book of the day. To be --

Gasping, no air was entering Steve's lungs. Instantly, his eyes flew open. His gaze landed on the ceiling. Having been moved to the floor, Bucky hovered around him, his attractive mouth moving. Steve couldn't hear him. What was he saying?

Bucky was frantic with his movements. Turning back to say something to Sam. Sam who was searching through Steve's backpack. Raggedly, Steve's chest rose and fell as his lungs absolutely refused to take in any air. He was having an asthma attack. He hadn't had one in nearly a year and a half.

Since Sam was having difficulties finding Steve's inhaler, Bucky bent over Steve. Maneuvering Steve's head, so his chin was tilted like they were taught in CPR training. Pressing his lips to Steve's, Bucky began breathing directly into Steve's mouth. Filling his airway as much as he could.

"Just imagine how much easier your life will be after," the voice proclaimed, sans Sharon. Sharon was rushing back over to them with the school's nurse in tow. Not that it had even been Sharon or her voice that had been saying all those awful things.

Directly in Steve's ear, the voice whispered, "Hail Hydra."

In a snap, the suffocating silence cleared and Steve took in a deep breath. His lungs finally doing their job and welcoming the air that Steve was gulping down. His arms grabbed at Bucky and held him close, refusing to let go.

Bucky sat him up and Steve clung to him, burying his face in Bucky's neck. Soothingly, Bucky smoothed his hand over the back of Steve's head as he held Steve just as close and slightly rocked him.

"Shh," Bucky whispered, his mouth close to Steve's ear. Reassuring, "It's okay. You're okay."

Over Bucky's broad shoulder, across the cafeteria was a lavender blush-skinned, nose-less man, who had tentacles growing out of his head. And Steve would recognize this man anywhere. It was Him. The all-powerful. Hive the Terrible. The Great Alveus.

Steve sucked in a shaky breath, realizing only then that he was crying. Lifting one of his hands to remove his vintage style brown framed glasses, to further nuzzle into his boyfriend's strong frame. Wanting to hide from the Hydra God, but knowing it would be useless. Hive knew who Steve was. There was no running now.


	7. Seven

**Seven:**

"Stevie?" Bucky's voice snapped through Steve's thoughts.

"Hmm?" Steve hummed, turning to look at Bucky. Realizing that they were at his house. Numbly, Steve unbuckled his seat belt and paused.

"You okay?" Bucky's face puckered with concern as he cupped the side of Steve's face. Thumb stroking along Steve's cheek as he asked, "Want me to hang out for a bit?"

Steve closed his eyes and pressed into the touch while he tried to push all thoughts that didn't involve Bucky out of his head. All he wanted was Bucky. But realistically, Steve knew that he couldn't have Bucky. Not in the ways that he wished he could. Not now. Not ever.

The way Alveus's eyes had bored into his made Steve's stomach flip and he jerked away from Bucky's touch. Bucky's brows furrowed further and Steve lamely reassured, "I should probably help out with the shop."

Brows smoothing, Bucky still didn't seem entirely convinced, so he teased, "Want me to keep ya company?"

"Company," Steve weakly scoffed and playfully swatted at him, "You'd be a distraction."

"Best distraction around," Bucky grinned, large and wide across his face as he leaned towards Steve.

Deciding to indulge in Bucky for the next week until his sixteenth birthday, Steve closed the distance. They had spent almost two years kissing, and Steve was sure that he'd never get over the way Bucky's soft lips felt against his. Steve hoped that even after his procedure and new life, that he'd still remember this.

"You keep kissin' me like that, and I'll never leave," Bucky spoke around Steve's lips.

The corner of Steve's lips quirked up and he half-teased, "Promise?"

"'Course," Bucky confirmed, pressing one more kiss against Steve's lips before pulling back. Although, not too far away as he leaned his forehead against Steve's and stroked Steve's jaw. Bucky sweetly, sincerely promised, "I'm never letting you go."

At that, Steve leaned in again to kiss Bucky. He wished he could spend the rest of his life kissing Bucky. Even though he knew that he couldn't. Realistically, Steve and Bucky were never going to last. If Steve didn't choose to follow through with what he had already promised Hydra, he would be nothing but a burden to Bucky. And no matter how much Steve wanted to spend the rest of his life with him, he knew that he could never put Bucky through that.

Until then though…

"Ya know what," Steve stated against Bucky's addictive lips. Bucky hummed back, informing Steve to keep going. Steve smirked at the vibrations of the musical note and said, "I change my mind."

"Yeah?" Bucky smirked, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he moved closer on the bench seat to sensually kiss Steve's neck, "And what have you decided?"

Biting back his own grin, Steve tilted his chin up, giving Bucky more space to kiss. Quietly, Steve clarified, "To be selfish."

"Selfish is good," Bucky conceded, lips still pressed against Steve's pale, elegant neck. "You should most definitely be selfish more often."

"If we don't leave now, we're going to give a whole lotta old ladies a show that they won't approve of," Steve chuckled and shoved at Bucky's shoulder. A dopey grin was on Bucky's face and Steve snorted at the sight. Grabbing his backpack and opening the door, Steve suggested, "Race ya!"

With his head start, Steve rushed up the steps of the wrap around porch and heard Bucky call out behind him, "Why, you little cheat!"

Chuckling, Steve burst through the front door and found Hildy casually leaning on the clerk's counter in the foyer. She quirked a brow at him and Steve headed up the impressive staircase with a haphazard, "Hey, Hil," thrown over his shoulder.

"Cuz," Hildy replied with an approving smirk on her face.

"Steven Grant, if you don't slow down, you're gonna have another asthma attack!" Steve heard Bucky call as soon as he entered the house and closed the door behind him. Also making sure to greet Hildy with a, "Hey, Hil! New shirt?"

"Nope. Had it for decades," Hildy nonchalantly explained. Steve managed to giggle at that. Bucky would assume it was a joke, but Steve knew that she meant it. Being Inhuman did that to a person. Made them practically immortal.

Gleefully, Steve rounded the railing and crashed into his bedroom. Nearly stepping on Goose in the process, but the Flerken managed to get out of the way just in time.

Multitasking, Steve toed off his red Converse sneakers and slipped out his corduroy jacket. Just in time too, because Bucky launched into Steve's bedroom and kicked the door closed behind him before tackling Steve onto his bed. Giggling, Steve wiggled under Bucky's bulk while Bucky toed off his own black Converse sneakers. Once those were off, Bucky crawled further up on the bed and leaned back. Sitting on his feet, Bucky tugged off his leather jacket and tossed it to the floor.

"You think you're pretty funny, huh," Bucky quirked a brow as he settled his weight on top of Steve between his legs. Affectionately, Bucky pushed Steve's floppy blond hair off his face and admitted, "I don't want you to lose your breath again, unless I'm the sole cause of it."

Blushing, Steve bit his lower lip and balled his hands around the fabric of Bucky's blue sweater as he proclaimed, "Damn you, Bucky Barnes. You're too smooth for your own good."

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, leaning in to tenderly kiss the side of Steve's slim neck. Lips still pressed against the pink skin, he murmured, "But you love me."


	8. Eight

**Eight:**

They were supposed to be doing homework. Really, they were. Deciding to take a break from their heated make out session, both had their books opened, their note taking supplies prepared, and their mouths moving in sync. Usually, they had more self-control than this. Usually, they didn't have a ticking clock on how many days they had left together.

Pulling back to catch his breath, Bucky rolled onto his back and raked his hand through his dark hair. His lips were kissed swollen and red. Which made Steve want to never stop kissing him. So, Steve decided to keep kissing him.

Maneuvering himself, Steve threw his leg over Bucky's hip to straddle him and ducked his head to start peppering kisses along the column of Bucky's neck. Immediately, Bucky tilted his head back on the pillows while his hands grasped Steve's hips. Giving Steve's hips a tender squeeze when he gently scraped his teeth along Bucky's skin.

Throwing his head further into the pillows, Bucky stretched his legs out on Steve's comfortable queen bed. Managing to accidentally push the books off the bed in the process. The books landing with a harsh _thump_ on the old hardwood floor.

"Easy there, Buck," Steve softly chuckled into Bucky's skin. Nibbling on Bucky's earlobe before teasing, "What're ya tryin' to do? Get my uncles up here?"

"Stevie," Bucky moaned, lowly. His voice just husky enough to cause Steve's toes to curl.

Dropping his hips, Steve felt Bucky's body react to his gyrations. More specifically, the way Bucky's cock started growing in his arousal. So tantalizingly sweet that Steve's own prick started hardening. Bucky removed one of his hands from Steve's hip. Affectionately, Bucky slipped his hand under Steve's soft sweater and up his back while Steve snaked his own hand down Bucky's lean torso.

This was as far as they typically went. They never discussed it much, it just felt right to not rush. Especially with Bucky's reassurance that they didn't have to go too fast. That they didn't have to go too far. That they had all the time in the world. Steve supposed that he should've realized then that Bucky had always imagined a future with him.

Suddenly, it felt like a stupid decision to take things slow. Steve had known all along that they would never have that future, after all. It had been a major point of discussion all his life that he would follow his mother's wishes and join Hydra on his sixteenth birthday. Steve remembered being excited to have that to look forward too. In much the same way that Bucky had looked forward to his bar mitzvah after witnessing his cousins' and his older brother, Teddy's.

Maybe if Steve had witnessed the joyous occasion of his family member's own terrigenesis, he would've felt a bit more at ease. Maybe he wouldn't have felt so torn about choosing what to do with his future.

Pushing all of that from his mind, he slid his hand down Bucky's front. Lightly stroking his fingers over the growing bulge in Bucky's jeans. Another soft moan left from Bucky's parted lips, and Steve reached up to start unbuttoning Bucky's jeans.

Bucky's hand stopped rubbing over Steve's back, and his voice cracked, "Maybe we should stop."

Steve's own hand paused in its exploratory ministrations. Pulling back to get a better look at Bucky as he asked, "You wanna stop?"

"No," Bucky eagerly reassured. Blushing, Bucky softly chuckled and stroked his thumb over Steve's ribs as he admitted, "I wanna do everything with you. I just don't think now's the time."

Dropping his forehead to Bucky's shoulder, Steve couldn't keep the smile or blush from his face as he agreed, "Okay." Stretching himself out, so he'd be in a less sensual stance, Steve repeated, "Okay."

"I ruined the mood, huh," Bucky softly stated, pressing a kiss to Steve's temple. Removing his hand from under Steve's shirt, Bucky chose to simply hold him instead.

"You didn't ruin anything," Steve reassured, turning his head to rest more comfortably on Bucky's chest. Letting out a sigh, "Ruined nothing at all."

Bucky's arms momentarily tightened around Steve's slender frame and confessed, "I mean it, ya know?"

Steve's eyes landed on the calendar that counted down to his birthday and his future terrigenesis with big black X's. Closing his eyes, he nuzzled more into Bucky's sturdy frame and questioned, "Mean what?"

Bucky was quiet for a moment as he tenderly rubbed his hand over Steve's arm, "That I wanna do everything with you."

"What do you mean by, 'everything'?"

"Everything," Bucky repeated. The smug smirk heard in his voice, Steve weakly swatted his hip. Chuckling, Bucky shrugged, "What do you think everything means?"

"No," Steve shook his head. Opening his eyes, he tilted his face up to look up at his handsome boyfriend and clarified, "I wanna hear what _you_ mean."

Glancing down at Steve, Bucky studied him. Bucky's steel-blue eyes sweeping over Steve's face as Steve laid there patiently in his arms, allowing Bucky to form his words the way he wanted to. Considering how little time they had left, Steve wanted everything to count.

Reaching up, Bucky cupped the side of Steve's face with his large hand. Stroking his thumb along Steve's cheek, Bucky declared, "I'm in love with you." His lip slightly quivering, Bucky further explained, "I want to live with you. I want to figure out life with you. I want to marry you. I want to grow old with you. I want to do everything with you. You and me. Just the way it's always been."

Steve's heart stuttered in his chest and tears started building in his blue eyes. Sure, he had always felt that Bucky loved him, but it was different hearing it. It meant more to him. _Bucky_ meant more to him.

Moving up, Steve cradled Bucky's face and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. Not trying to start up their heated make out session, just wanting to kiss the boy that loved him. The boy who he loved. Pulling back after the chaste kiss, Steve looked deep into Bucky's eyes. And although Steve couldn't promise all those things, he wanted them too and he allowed himself to admit, "I'm in love with you, too."


	9. Nine

**Nine:**

"So, Saturday," Bucky smirked, leaning in to press a kiss to Steve's awaiting lips. Pulling back, there was a smug grin on his face as they stood at the large, black oval double doors, Bucky confirmed, "I'll pick you up at, say, ten? Make a whole day out of picking apples and pumpkins? Get lost in the corn maze and hold each other once you start getting scared."

"Bucky Barnes, you're one to talk," Steve scoffed, playfully shoving Bucky's broad shoulder as he reminded the now chuckling brunet, "You're the biggest scaredy cat that I've ever met in my life."

"Hey, easy there, pal," Bucky slung his arm around Steve's shoulders, pulling him in and holding him close, "Those are fighting words."

"Fight me," Steve replied feigning indignance and playfully scrunching up his face at Bucky.

Of course, that just made Bucky chuckle all the more as he teased, "Your infamous last words."

"You got that right," Steve agreed, standing on his tip toes to press a kiss to Bucky's lips.

Around the kiss, Bucky warned in jest, "You're gonna give me gray hairs, you know that?"

That hit Steve differently than what was intended. Pulling back, Steve kept the small smile on his face and confirmed, "I'll see you tomorrow morning for school."

"School, yup," Bucky grinned, leaning in for one more kiss. And then another. As he pressed a third kiss, Steve chuckled and nearly pushed him out the door. Bucky agreed, "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow. And Saturday."

"And Saturday," Steve conceded.

Steve watched Bucky hop down the porch steps. Watched as Bucky headed down the walk to where his dark green Chevrolet truck was parked along the curb in front of the old Victorian house turned antique shop. Watched as Bucky turned -- more than once -- to grin back at Steve. Watched all the way up until Bucky reached his truck, opened the door, and stood there to blow Steve a kiss.

With his cheeks red, Steve flipped Bucky off instead of returning the gesture. Not that Bucky minded. Instead, Bucky called out, "You love me!" And Steve couldn't even deny him because it was the truth. Steve loved Bucky Barnes and he knew it. Closing the door, Steve leaned against the left side of the large glazed stained glass oval window.

Steve's mind raced over all the images of a future that would never be his and melancholy filled the air around him; threatening to suffocate him. Thankfully, Goose brushed up against his shin. Effectively removing Steve from his thoughts as he bent over to pick the Flerken up. Allowing Goose to lick his face while he scratched the back of his orange fur.

Goose licked over Steve's cheek, causing him to chuckle and reassure, "Okay, I get it. I love you, too!"

Setting the creature down on the floor, Steve headed for the kitchen where he could already smell Uncle Thor's kosher lemon garlic salmon. Steve was starting to think that he'd be eating a lot of similar dishes considering what those key ingredients represented.

"So, is the salmon for fertility?" Steve teased, entering the kitchen.

"Very funny," Thor deadpanned while Hildy commented, "Maveth knows that the world doesn't need any more Odinsons. Even if we were with partners we could naturally reproduce with."

Steve tapped the tip of his nose to signal that Hildy was right about that, earning a swat from Loki's paper as he walked over to the table. Chuckling, Steve took his regular seat and gained a wink from his mischievous cousin.

"What did we do to deserve such hilarious wards, brother?" Loki mocked, joining his niece and nephew at the table.

"Just lucky," Thor smiled, bringing the platter of baked kosher lemon garlic salmon over to the table. As he set it down in the center, Thor's brows furrowed and glanced around, looking for something. Setting his gaze on Steve, he asked, "Bucky's not joining us?"

"Not tonight," Steve answered. Shifting in his seat, making the worn leather upholstery squeak as he explained, "His bubbe is coming for dinner."

"How is Bubbe Ava?" Loki questioned, genuinely interested.

Thor took his seat at the other end of the table and invoked, "Hopefully well."

"She had hip surgery not long ago," Steve reminded, graciously taking the made plate from Uncle Loki.

As Hildy took her plate, she informed, "I've been performing a protection spell for her."

Steve exchanged a smile with his cousin and replied to her wink by childishly sticking his tongue out at her. They both knew how much they cared about one another. Despite everything, Steve was lucky to have his family. Sure, he wished that he could've met his parents. But he could at least say that he grew up in a loving family.

A family that he hoped would always be there for him…

No matter what he chose…

So, Steve nervously swallowed the lump in his throat and kept his gaze on his dinner in front of him as he asked, "Did you, um… Were you… nervous…? Before your terrigenesis?"

When no one said anything, Steve peeked up at his family. All three members were watching Steve with their brows furrowed, as though nerves had never crossed their mind. Silently giving Steve his answer. No, they had never been nervous before their transformative sixteenth birthday.

"Nerves are perfectly natural," Thor consoled. His expression smoothing out into a small, comforting grin.

"Uncle Thor is right," Hildy agreed, nodding and unsurely smiling, "Just jitters. Everyone gets them."

Loki reached forward, took a sip of his white wine. Setting the wine glass back on the table, his jaw was clenched. Briefly, Steve glanced at Hildy who took a drink of her whiskey. Steve's gaze snapped back over as he watched his uncle, feeling the tension building in the air. Then, in a blink of an eye, Loki took the sharp steak knife and harshly stabbed it right into Thor's muscular thigh.

"Brother!" Thor exclaimed, removing the knife and placing the sharp instrument onto the table.

Steve looked at the bloody blade and Hildy picked it up, taking it over to the table. Steve wondered if they should've left a bucket of suds off to the side in case Uncle Loki suddenly felt stabby. This was by no means a new development.

"I told you that letting him be with mortals would be trouble," Loki spoke through his teeth.

"Did that really garner _that_ response?!" Thor questioned before concentrating on his wound and enchanting his skin and muscle to stitch itself up.

"It's your fault that the boy is confused!" Loki roared accusatorily.

"It's what Joseph wanted!" Thor reminded, ending the conversation.

Tears started building in Steve's eyes and his lip started to quiver. Thor and Loki had been burdened with not one family member to take care of raise, but two. And not even burdened with two enhanced either, Steve had the misfortune of being a half breed. An outcast among outcasts. And as much as Steve wanted to be strong, sometimes he couldn't be.

Steve had been strung tight like a bow string of emotions. Betraying himself, he sniffled. And just like that, he broke like an arrow cutting through the air. Tears fell from his eyes and he pushed under his glasses to wipe at his face.

Knowing that his family was watching him, and not wanting to break down completely in front of them, Steve pushed himself away from the table. The chair squealed as it slid back against the tile floor as he stood from his seat. Not paying attention as he left the kitchen and set out for comfort.


	10. Ten

**Ten:**

After bathing for the third time that day, Steve headed for bed. His stomach quickly twisting again in knots that the de-cursing bath had taken care of. His fingers and toes pruney from soaking in the herbs that Uncle Thor advised him to. But even those couldn't calm his torn soul. The most that Steve could hope for would be to have a fitful night's rest. And even that seemed like asking for too much.

With a flick of his hand, he drew back the fresh covers on his bed while he crossed the room. Normally, he didn't indulge in the powers that had been passed down in his blood for generations. But normally, Steve pretended that he wasn't seemingly on his way to his own execution.

Sure, Steve knew that it wasn't necessarily an end. It was meant to be a beginning. A beginning to health. To power. To freedom.

But once a certain brown hair, blue eyed boy was thrown into the mix, it sure as all Maveth felt like he was sitting on death row. Which Steve knew wasn't the right mindset to be in. It would only lead to terrible nightmares and possible sleep wandering. Steve just couldn't help it though. His family's reactions hadn't helped him the way that he had been hoping.

Not that he knew what he had been hoping for to begin with.

Scratch that. Steve did know. Steve wanted his family to accept him even if he didn't go through with his transformative sixteenth. He had been hoping that even if he ran off with his meshuga boyfriend that they would support them.

Softly, knuckles rapped on his closed bedroom door. Before Steve could grant or deny the person access, Uncle Thor poked his head into his room. A sad smile on his face as he entered the room.

As Steve pulled the blue sheet and handmade quilt over himself, Thor took a seat beside him and soothingly questioned, "How're you holding up, little one?"

"How mad is Uncle Loki?" Steve asked instead.

Thor took Steve's pruney hand in his strong one and patted it, "Pay no mind to him. You know how temperamental he can be. Especially when he truly just wants the best for you."

Steve nodded, looking at the difference between their hands. After the terrigenesis, the differences wouldn't be so noticeable. Now though, they were like night and day.

Keeping his focus on his nearly translucent hand grasped between Thor's golden tan hands, Steve asked, "Did you ever consider not going through with it?"

For a moment, it was quiet. Nothing being heard except for the purrs rumbling out of Goose who laid curled up in a ball beside Steve's thin thigh. Then, Thor surprised Steve by confessing, "Once."

Blinking, Steve snapped his eyes to look over his loving uncle. Thor chuckled at the bewilderment clear on Steve's face. He informed him, "Don't look so surprised, dear boy. It's a big commitment."

"So, how'd you decide?" Steve asked, moving to sit up. Ignoring Goose's complaints as he moved. Steve watched Thor and pleaded for guidance, "What made you realize that it was the right decision? Especially back then? Back when Hydra stood for pain and sought out Aryan beauty?"

"The tides were changing, and I knew that I'd do everything in my power to do good," Thor explained. Patting Steve's hand again, he reassured his nephew, "Just as I know you will."

Worrying his lower lip, Steve nodded. His uncles were good people. His cousin was good too. And he was good. There were, of course, mythos about Hydra and how they were evil. But Steve knew people who were doing good unto the world. It wasn't all as it once was. It was more inclusive. Hildy was proof of that. As was Uncle Loki, for that matter. And even further proof was the fact this his mother, Hela, had been their sect's High Priestess. Making Steve's mother the most powerful woman of all of Hydra and his family a very influential one.

"Although, there was a time where I thought about running off and living my days out with the peaceful Flora Colossus where the squadron would have to pry the Earth from my cold dead hands."

Eyes wide, Steve looked up at his uncle. Unsure where that came from and too unnerved to question further. There was a far-off look in Thor's eyes and Steve leaned back to gauge him better.

It only lasted a moment though as Thor came-to again and patted his hands. With a smile, he told Steve, "Well, sleep tight, little one."

"Sleep tight, Uncle Thor," Steve agreed, removing his glasses and reclining back on his bed.

At the door, Thor smiled and flipped off the light as he left Steve's room. Hearing his uncle's confession didn't comfort him in the slightest. If anything, it made Steve want to run even more. After all, if Thor had been unsure himself, it didn't look too promising to Steve.

Steve's stomach continued to knot and he turned his head to look over at his father's old chair. For a moment, Steve wondered if there had actually been something there in the corner this morning. Of course, he didn't want to let his imagination play any tricks on him and found comfort when Goose climbed onto his body and nestled himself on top of Steve's bladder. For nights like these, it was good to have a Flerken.


	11. Eleven

**Eleven:**

Just as the previous night, Steve found himself in the forest. Muscles throbbing, lungs sore, feet pushing him further. Unlike the previous night however, Steve knew to expect the opening with the roaring fire and the group of enhanced teens. He knew if he kept running in this direction, he'd come face to face with his eyeless, soulless, healthy body.

And Steve really didn't want to face the alternate version of himself.

So, he skidded to a stop. His feet scraping open on the forest floor. Bending over, Steve rested his hands on his knobby knees and tried to catch his breath. His eyes attempted to adjust to the darkness, but the moonlight wasn't shining enough light to illuminate a safe place. Which, self-admittedly, said something about his current day-to-day life.

Standing as straight as he could with his crooked spine, Steve glanced in the direction he was running to. Even from where he stood, he could see the fire light, only slightly dimmer since he was further back. If he kept running, he'd come across the fire. He'd have to face himself.

But why was he running? What could possibly cause Steve to run away?

With furrowed brows set with purpose, Steve turned towards the direction he ran from. Determined, Steve reasoned, _Might as well see what I'm running from_. Then, like a shot, Steve took off in the direction he came.

Steve's muscles still burned and his lungs still struggled, but he couldn't stop. He had to find out what he was running from. He had to know. If there was any way to get over his fear, this was it. Perhaps it might even bring him some peace of mind.

Perhaps he could figure out how to defeat his fear.

Then, the wall of trees opened up. Steve paused, tilting his head up to take in the domineering building in front of him. The structure sturdy. The bricks ominous. Appearing abandoned; but Steve knew that was a trick. Knowing that the townspeople probably passed on ghost stories around fires about the _haunted former mental asylum_.

Swallowing thickly, Steve decided to proceed.

Admittedly, it seemed like a bad decision. Nay, the worst decision. If Bucky was there, he'd call Steve out for being a, "reckless putz." And as he started heading up the old, concrete steps, Steve couldn't help but agree with him.

Reaching the large blood red door, Steve's heart raced. Placing his hands on the door, Steve convinced himself, "This is only a dream." Pushing the heavy door open, "This is only a dream."

Along the white, reflective tiles, Steve noticed a trail of blood. It was dark and dry. Steve's stomach dipped. A little voice niggled that he should turn back. Insisted that he run. But he couldn't. He had to figure it out. He had to know why he was running. Why he was torn and having such trouble following through with his plans.

So, Steve walked with light steps along the trail. Following it down the hall. To the left. To the right. All the way up to another large door. Steve had a feeling that he wasn't going to like where this was heading. But he pushed the door open anyway.

_Yup_, Steve sighed, looking over the dark steps heading downward, _It's the basement_.

Cautiously, Steve started down the staircase. About halfway down, he heard a scream. The agony in that deep voice stopped his heart. Caused his blood to freeze in his veins. He knew that voice.

_He knew that voice!_

Hesitation and fear aside, Steve rushed down the rest of the stairs. Skipping the last few to hop onto the hard floor, Steve ignored the way his ankles buckled and kept going. Desperate in his attempt to reach _him_. Needing to save him. It was the only thing that Steve knew he had to do.

Then, abruptly stopped. The trail continued up to a large chair. An advanced medical chair. Something out of a Dentist office from hell. Strangely and frightening, a mechanism connected to the chair hung over it like a claw from the arcade rigged treasure trove that tempted kids due to the many unwinnable prizes inside. Around the chair, there was a group of men in white lab coats and armed guards. They were surrounding the occupied chair, observing the boy being tortured in front of them.

Steve stood back, just observing. Until the wall of men split and revealed his worst fear: the love of his life being tortured.

"NO!" Steve exclaimed, charging at the men to get them to stop. Swinging his limbs and landing hits as he fought nail and tooth to save Bucky. To stop his suffering. To keep him out of harm's way.

"Steve!" Bucky agonizingly called out for his boyfriend. Reaching out his arm towards Steve as far as he could while being restrained to the chair by thick metal bands as he pleaded, "Steve!"

"Steven!"

Jerking awake, he found Thor holding him in his strong arms. Loki stood beside them as he hovered helplessly over his nephew. Steve blinked a few times. Not being able to see anything but their blurred faces and vague body shapes without his glasses.

Immediately, Steve buried his face in Thor's broad shoulder. The tears freely falling from his eyes and staining Thor's light blue_ Galaxy's Best Uncle _sleep shirt. The sobs racking through his small frame as Thor's arms securely held him close. Rubbing soothing circles into his back as he murmured a spell into Steve's ear in hopes of calming the petite blond.

Although the spell was working, and Steve's breathing was calming, Steve couldn't get the image of Bucky's contorted, bloody face out of his mind. Couldn't get the broken, agonized scream out of his head. And he couldn't stop repeating, "No, no, no."


	12. Twelve

**Twelve:**

The previous night Steve had was the worst yet. Once morning came, Steve headed straight for the coffee pot. Pouring himself some of the magic bean juice. At least, that was what Sharon called it. If only she knew that magic was real. That would really blow her mind. Especially since she had been obsessed with the mystical world of _Harry Potter_ for most of their childhoods.

Drinking the strong, black coffee from one of Hildy's mugs, not that she minded. This particular one decorated with a flame and matches, reading: _Burn it all down_. Steve had half of it drunk when Uncle Loki suggested, "Perhaps you should stay home today."

Steve lowered the mug to look at his family. Each member in their usual morning spots. Thor at the stove making breakfast. Hildy in her chair, nursing a hangover. Loki with his paper. The only difference was that the paper was still rolled up on the table, and all gazes were locked on Steve as he stood by the counter.

Taking another drink, Steve carefully sat the mug down on the counter. Pushing his glasses up on his nose, Steve declined, "I have a test in physics and a quiz in geometry."

"I'm sure you could make them up when you're feeling better," Thor reassured with his brow set deep in concern and a kind smile tugging at his lips.

"Not that you need them once you transfer," Loki muttered. Although it was said quietly, his voice traveled and echoed in the tense air around them.

Steve clenched his jaw and crossed his arms along his chest, "I want to spend as much time with my friends as I can."

"So be it," Loki relented and finally picked up his paper. Unrolling it and shaking it out, he brought the paper up in front of his face. Creating that curtain that Steve was familiar with as he confirmed, "As long as you let them go once it's time."

Feeling more argumentative than usual, Steve questioned, "Why do I have to let them go?"

"That's just how things are," Loki answered, lowering the paper to give Steve A Look.

"But I don't understand," Steve complained, "It's not fair."

"Brother," Loki snidely commented, keeping his gaze on their nephew, "Might you want to jump in, since you're the one who encouraged he get tangled in mortal affairs?"

With a sigh, Thor leaned on the island counter that was between the stove and the other counter where Steve was leaning. Gently, Thor explained, "It gets tricky with mortals. Once you undergo terrigenesis, your body will change. It'll be difficult to explain why overnight you look like an Adonis. Even after you come back from the school, it'll be difficult. Your body will regenerate cells quickly to keep you healthy, which will --"

"Make me age slower," Steve interrupted. Irritably, he sighed, "I know all that. But why do I have to give them up? You all deal with mortals all the time!"

"That's true, we do," Hildy agreed. Her voice raspy as she explained, "But we don't form lasting connections and relationships with them. It's all always at the surface level."

Steve's brows furrowed deeper and the tips of his ears turned red in his frustration as he demanded, "But why --"

"Because it'll break your heart!" Loki slammed the paper down on the table, his hands hitting the old wood harshly. His face twisted in despair as he clarified, "Their lives will be but a second of your life. I've spent many years on this Earth and I know how easy it is to love them. I know how hard it is to watch them grow older and die. And I don't want you to go through that."

Steve chanced a glance at Thor. He was the one that had gone through the heartache in which Loki told. And as expected, Thor had turned back to the stove. His shoulders hunched just a bit more.

Feeling the tears building in his eyes, Steve dropped his gaze to the floor and bargained, "What if I didn't have a transformative sixteenth?"

All the noise filtered out of the kitchen. The turkey bacon stopped sizzling. The toast popped silently. The radiator off to the side paused. Steve couldn't stand to see his families expressions. Especially not once Loki softly, brokenly asked, "You'd do that to us?"

Before anything else could be said, the doorbell rang. Steve raised his gaze to his family and found them all watching him with sadness radiating off them. He knew that they knew the answer then.

Hesitantly, Steve crossed the room. He kissed the top of Hildy's hair and walked around the table to kiss Uncle Loki's pale cheek. Looping back around, Uncle Thor bent over, awaiting Steve to kiss his golden tan cheek, like every morning.

As Steve slipped on his corduroy jacket, Thor called after him, "Have a splendid day, little one."

Nodding in acknowledgement, Steve gave him a small smile. Sliding on his backpack, he smiled at the rest of his family too. In the air, melancholy lingered around them like a fog. Every step closer to the front door, it was obvious what Steve's choice was.

Finding Bucky Barnes standing on his porch, wearing an easy grin on his face, Bucky started greeting, "Hey, Ste--"

Only, Steve didn't greet him the way that he typically did. Steve lunged forward and covered Bucky's mouth with his. Immediately tangling his fingers in Bucky's brown hair as he hungrily kissed the love of his life. Hydra be damned. Steve Rogers intended to do everything in his power to keep Bucky safe.

Snaking his arms around Steve's slender waist, Bucky pulled back from the kiss and smugly smirked, "Good morning to you, too."


	13. Thirteen

**Thirteen:**

If how the day went was based on how the night went, Steve would've been put through the wringer. Luckily for him though, it was a surprisingly good day. Not that he was a betting man, but he'd wager that it was, in no small part, because of Bucky.

Holding Bucky's hand in between classes; their fingers laced. Bucky surprising Steve at their locker by poking his sides to make him squirm. Or wrapping Steve's petite frame up in his arms and lifting him off the ground, just to hear Steve laugh. Slinging his arm around Steve's shoulders, bringing him close to his frame because he knew that Steve ran cold due to poor circulation. And that wasn't even taking into account all the shared kisses.

"Okay, I got one," Bucky announced a few feet from their locker, causing other students in the hallway to snap their attention to him.

Steve was already standing there, carelessly shoving his books in his bag. He quirked a brow at his boyfriend, wondering what he was talking about. They hadn't been discussing anything in particular prior to class. So, Steve stood there, waiting for Bucky to finish his thought.

Reaching over Steve's head for his own books on the top shelf, Bucky bit back his grin as he tried to tell Steve without bursting into a fit of giggles, "Okay."

Then, of course, he giggled and Steve turned to look up at him. Bucky pressed his lips together to control his laughter as he tried again, "Okay. What did one eye say to the other?"

"Um," Steve's brows furrowed and a smirk crossed his face. He thought for a moment before shrugging and caving, "I don't know. What?"

"'Don't. Look. Now,'" Bucky spoke slowly, really struggling to refrain from laughing, "'But there's something between us --'" a high-pitch giggle "'-- that smells.'"

"Oh my god," Steve groaned in embarrassment and nuzzled into Bucky's strong chest. Shaking his head, Steve proclaimed, "I'm in love with a dork."

At that, Bucky stopped getting his things around and sat his backpack on the floor so he could wrap his arms around Steve's frame. Kissing Steve's forehead before resting his cheek on the top of Steve's head, Bucky confirmed, "Yeah, you are. And I'm in love with --"

"Someone who's mature," Steve offered.

"Nah," Bucky giggled and shifted his head. Burying his face in Steve's floppy blond hair, Bucky softly corrected, "A stick in the mud."

"Oh," Steve turned his head and blew a raspberry in the air in distaste. Poking Bucky's side to make him giggle, Steve playfully pulled away and exaggerated, "I take it all back! I'm not in love with you! Nope, not at --"

Bucky pressed his lips to Steve's. Which was precisely the best way to stop Steve from talking. Steve eased into Bucky's arms again and held his lean body to his own petite body. This was worth it. Worth being excommunicated. Worth being nothing more than a footnote in his family tree. Bucky was more than worth it.

Speaking against Steve's lips, Bucky admitted, "I'd ask you to just stay the night, but you know how the 'rents have been ever since we made it official."

"Yeah, I know," Steve scoffed, turning around to slide the straps of his backpack on his shoulders.

Their weekly Friday sleepovers used to be something that Steve looked forward to every week. When they were growing up, it was a gift to Steve. He saw it that way, at least. Even then he had a crush on Bucky and adored waking up in a sleeping bag next to his.

Once they started dating, they had still kept up the ritual. For the most part, the sleepovers had continued in the same stride as the past ones did. They watched a movie or binged a show. Pigged out on junk food that Thor would've had a conniption over. And the sleepovers would've been allowed to continue in Bucky's room, if Winifred Barnes hadn't walked in on the pair hungrily making out on Bucky's twin bed with 80 pound Stevie straddling her son.

From then on out, all other sleepovers required the boys to sleep in the living room. Which wasn't ideal with how early George Barnes woke up in the morning and how much noise Winifred Barnes made as she got breakfast around. Not to mention how the other household members were. It only reminded Steve of how things had been before, how much better they were since they started dating, and how much he wished for privacy at the Barnes' house.

As Steve waited for Bucky to slip on his brown leather jacket and his own backpack, something in his periphery caught his attention. It was a flash of a white lab coat. No one wore those here. A chill ran down his spine as a deep voice taunted, "You think that you can run from fate, junge? That you can protect the dirty-blooded mortal with your broken body?"

Feeling breath on the back of his neck, Steve's eyes widened and his body stood as ramrod straight as a person with his severe condition could. Goose bumps blossomed along his skin. No matter how much he wanted to turn to see if anyone was actually there, he didn't. If there wasn't, he'd seem crazy. If it was Alveus, like before, he'd seem even crazier.

The slam of the locker door caused Steve to jerk, and Bucky chuckled. Until he realized Steve's skittish state. Instantly, Bucky stepped into his role as Protective Boyfriend™️ and placed a comforting hand on Steve's shoulder as he cautiously questioned, "Stevie?"

"I'm fine," Steve reflexively replied, avoiding looking Bucky in the eye. Instead, keeping his focus on the short, bald man with a long lab coat and small circle frame glasses. He vaguely remembered seeing him in his nightmare. Steve knew to keep an eye on him. Whether the man was actually there or not.

"Steve," Bucky firmly stated. A tone that was reserved for when Steve was being a reckless putz and on the possible cusp of harming himself in some way.

Quirking a brow, Steve leveled A Look at him before declaring, "James."

Shaking his head, a smile started tugging at the corners of his red lips as he sighed and pulled Steve into him. Deciding to wrap his arm along Steve's shoulders, Bucky held him close and kissed Steve's temple as he suggested, "Let's go, yeah?"

Mutely, Steve nodded and wrapped his arm around Bucky's waist. Nuzzling his face into his boyfriend's strong frame, letting Bucky turn them around and start leading them down the hallway towards the exit. Not for the first time, Steve realized that he was pretty lucky when it came to James Buchanan Barnes. He didn't know what he'd do without him and he had no intentions in ever finding out.


	14. Fourteen

**Fourteen:**

By the third time that Winifred walked by Bucky's room, Bucky sighed and tossed his pencil into his open textbook. Scrubbing his hand over his face, Bucky muttered, "We should've gone to your house."

"She means well," Steve smirked, glancing towards the open doorway. Half expecting to see Winifred's voluptuous frame walk by again. When she didn't, Steve assumed that she was busy with her previous task before she started laundry: in the dining room, helping Teddy apply for college.

"Still," Bucky huffed, annoyance seeping into his tone.

Setting his history textbook down on his desk, he pushed his computer chair back. The force causing him to bump into his bed where Steve was laying on his stomach, reading his own textbook. Quirking a brow up to look at his suspicious smiling boyfriend. Capping his pen, Steve asked, "Yes?"

"You're cute when you concentrate," Bucky gleefully complimented.

Playfully, Steve rolled his eyes and redirected his attention to the book in front of him as he commented, "And you're a flirt."

"Only with you," Bucky reassured, climbing off his desk chair and onto his newer, larger bed. Settling himself down, Bucky slid his right arm down Steve's back and sensually squeezed Steve's bum. Burying his face in Steve's hair, Bucky confessed, "Only ever with you."

Blushing, Steve glanced at the open door and sneered, "James Buchanan, your door is open."

"So?" Bucky scoffed, trailing kisses down the column of Steve's neck. Steve rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulder, knocking into Bucky's frame. Bucky sighed, but stopped kissing Steve. Instead, choosing to just keep his face buried there as he complained, "We should've gone to your house."

Sighing, Steve uncapped his pen and started taking notes again. Steve didn't want to go home. He didn't want to deal with his family. Actually, that was wrong. Steve didn't want to deal with the consequences of his selfishness. Even if it was his right to choose, Steve knew that he had hurt his family. And that was the last thing that Steve wanted.

"Actually," Bucky started, "We should've never told my family we were dating."

With furrowed brows, Steve turned to look at Bucky. Bucky wiggled his brows, almost as though he was trying to convince Steve. A smirk tugged at Steve's lips and he teased, "I think they'd catch on considering you can't keep your hands to yourself."

"Surely, I don't know what you're talking about," Bucky grinned, leaning forward to kiss Steve's forehead. Feigning suspicion, Bucky stated, "I think you're confusing me with you."

"Ah," Steve falsely agreed, shaking his head. Turning back to his open textbook, he deadpanned, "So, that must be me touching my own ass."

Bucky ducked his face into Steve's neck again and gave his bum another squeeze as he complimented, "And a good ass, it is."

Rolling his eyes, Steve mocked, "You could sell sand to the desert, ya know that?"

Giddily, Bucky snickered and started peppering Steve's skin with kisses. Refraining, Steve pretended as though Bucky didn't have him wrapped around his finger. They both knew that was a lie though.

Not getting the reaction he wanted, Bucky tried a different tactic. Choosing instead to start digging his fingers into Steve's sides. Since they had been friends for so long, Bucky knew all of Steve's tickle spots. And he had decided to exploit them all. Especially since it teased giggles out of him more than anything else ever could.

Squirming, Steve rolled onto his back and called out, "Okay, okay! I give --"

Cutting himself off as a loud snort ripped through him, Bucky immediately moved closer. Mischievously, Bucky pushed aside Steve's orange flannel and shoved up the gray t-shirt before ducking and blowing a raspberry on Steve's milky white skin. Of course, that only caused Steve to laugh louder.

"Geez," a deep voice teased from the open doorway, "The doors open."

Both boys snapped their gazes to the door to find the older Barnes' son. With Bucky's same good looks and charm, it was easy to understand why he was such a ladies man. Growing up, while Bucky was everything that Steve had wanted to be, Teddy had been everything that Bucky had wanted to be.

"The dryer should be done in twenty minutes," Teddy offered, easing the door closed with a kind wink thrown their way.

Smiling down at Steve, Bucky prompted, "Where were we?"

Feigning thought, Steve playfully scrunched his face up as though he honestly had no clue. Which, of course, was a blatant lie. Steve's every molecule was craving for Bucky's touch, and Steve was certain that he knew it. Especially since Bucky didn't wait for an answer and dove in.

Sensually, Bucky kissed Steve. A warmth started in Steve's stomach and began spreading out to the rest of his body. Deepening the kiss, Bucky shifted his body until he was nestled in between Steve's thin legs, which Steve promptly hitched over Bucky's hips.

As Steve ran his hand up Bucky's back, Bucky rolled his hips. Their bodies reacting the way that they always did. Soon, losing themselves in each other as they attempted to get as much making out as they could until Winifred came back upstairs to get the laundry. Vaguely, Steve thanked Alveus that the Barnes' dryer had a loud, high pitch beep that would alert them to when they would need to control themselves and open the door.

In between kisses, Bucky spoke, "Wish you could --" kiss "-- stay --" kiss "-- the night."

Steve nodded, tangling his fingers in Bucky's hair and nibbling on his lower lip as he agreed, "Me too."

Absently, Steve thought about the nightmare he had for the past two nights. Each time it was worse than the last. Steve didn't know how he'd deal with tonight's. Knowing that just because he told his family his new decision, that didn't mean that the nightmares would suddenly stop. It would take time for magic to fade. He would still have to suffer for the unforeseeable future.

But perhaps the nightmares wouldn't be a bother if someone was there with him.

Pulling back from the kiss, Steve tried not to thrill at the way Bucky chased after his lips. Good-naturedly scoffing, Steve covered Bucky's mouth with his hand and offered, "Stay at my house."

Bucky's brows arched high on his forehead at that. Shifting, he put more of his weight on his right arm as he took Steve's wrist in his left. Affectionately rubbing circles into his skin as he removed Steve's hand from his face.

Eyes searching, Bucky asked, "Are you sure?"

Chewing on his lower lip, Steve thought about it. This would be the first time that Bucky stayed the night at his house. Growing up, it had only seemed natural for them to stay at the Barnes' home. Especially since the Odinsons' second story wasn't exactly child proof, let alone mortal proof.

"Yeah," Steve confirmed with a nod, "Unless you don't --"

Bucky's confirmation came with a kiss. A sweet kiss, just in time for the dryer to beep and for Bucky to hop off his bed to race for his bedroom door. Steve chuckled from his spot on Bucky's bed and chuckled even more when Bucky started packing an overnight bag. Pausing when Steve didn't move, Bucky quirked a brow, "Well?"


	15. Fifteen

**Fifteen:**

Steve didn't have any hesitation about Bucky staying the night. It was certainly long overdue, and the giddiness that rolled off of Bucky on the ride there was contagious. There wasn't any doubt in Steve's mind that this was a good decision. A needed one, at that.

Since it was long after _Nine Realms Antiques_ closing time, Bucky pulled into the driveway. Essentially blocking off the parking lot since he parked closest to the house and in front of the parking spaces that customers used. Only briefly did Steve think about sending his uncles' a text to ask for permission. But only briefly as he was still upset with their argument that morning.

Of course, all that drifted away as they walked hand-in-hand up to the Odinson residence. The osteoarthritis in Steve's knees ached, but the tender circles that Bucky rubbed into the back of his hand helped a little. Perhaps Bucky had some magic of his own.

As Steve reached for the fancy doorknob, Bucky tugged on his other hand accompanied with a soft, "Wait."

"What?" Steve smirked, quirking a brow at his suddenly bashful boyfriend.

"C'mere," Bucky tugged on Steve's hand again. Humoring the cute brunet, Steve took the couple of steps back over to Bucky and gazed up at him. Bucky opted for cupping Steve's face instead of holding his hand as he reasoned, "Just wanna kiss you first, in case we have to leave the door open."

Steve poked Bucky's side as he challenged, "Ya plannin' on getting lucky, James?"

"Let's just call it wishful optimism," Bucky teased, leaning in to sweetly kiss Steve.

With their lips still pressed together, Steve playfully complained, "Too smooth for your own good."

"I don't see you stopping me," Bucky smiled into the next kiss. And the next. The one after that took on a new sensation.

Heatedly, the pair held each other closer. Steve snaked his hand up to Bucky's hair. Tangling his fingers in the soft brown strands while Bucky's own hand slid down and around for Steve's ass. As Bucky sensually squeezed Steve's backside, Steve tugged at Bucky's hair. Each letting out their own soft moans as they hungered for more.

Of course, the front porch wasn't the place for that. Steve wasn't sure if he had the strength to pull back, so he was grateful when Bucky broke the kiss.

"Let's hope my uncles won't make us leave the door open," Steve teased, pressing one more kiss to Bucky's red lips.

Pulling away from Bucky fully, Steve turned and finally opened the door. A bit hesitantly, Steve entered his house and was greeted by Hildy who was quietly rushing down the hallway towards him with large eyes. Her arms outstretched before her as she gripped Steve's shoulders. Quickly, Hildy harshly whispered, "What is Bucky doing here?"

"He's staying the night, why?" Steve asked, his brows deeply furrowing.

"Please, tell me you're joking," Hildy quietly demanded. When Steve didn't reassure his cousin, she pinched the bridge of her nose and relayed, "The High Priest is here."

Steve blanched at that as his eyes widened, "Schmidt is _here_? _Now_?!" Hildy slowly nodded, accentuating the sensitivity to the situation. Bucky closed the door behind himself, oblivious to Steve's current predicament and Steve turned towards his boyfriend. Quickly, harshly, Steve pressed a kiss to his favorite pair of red lips. With his lips still there, Steve summoned his powers that often stayed dormant to enchant Bucky, "Go upstairs, but don't make a sound. Don't be seen, don't be heard. Do as I say, and I'll give you a reward."

A glaze washed over Bucky's steel-blue eyes and just as Steve cast, Bucky silently started heading up the staircase. Steve's stomach twisted into even more knots. He hated using magic. Even if he knew he needed to do it in order to protect the love of his life.

"You know that's not going to last long," Hildy warned.

"I know," Steve fretted, wringing his hands as he watched Bucky continue upstairs. Once he rounded the landing to head further into the house, Steve directed his attention to his cousin, "Can you make sure he doesn't do anything?"

"Of course," Hildy nodded and headed up the grand staircase.

Once she was out of sight, Steve took in a deep breath and turned to the right. Steve should've known that something was up considering the room was closed off after hours. If Steve's head wasn't swirling in his lust and giddiness, he would've realized that something was up by that small act alone. He supposed it was a good thing that the doors to the room was closed though. Steve shuddered to think about what could've happened to Bucky if his family hadn't had enough foresight to close them.

With his hands shaking as he separated the wooden sliding doors, Steve tried to compose himself as the three men directed their attention to him. Uncle Thor and Uncle Loki in the twin brick-red armchairs with the shiny gold leaf pattern detail that were placed across from the matching sofa. But Steve's attention was on Johann Schmidt, sitting on their antique sofa as though it was just another night.

Just as he usually was, Herr Schmidt was dressed in a well-tailored slim gray suit, black button up and a silk red wine paisley ascot tied into a perfect puff that matched the red pocket square. Proudly, the Hydra emblem stitched into the red silk material that peeked out from the top of the pocket. His brown hair slicked back and his angular face set in casual distaste as he locked his unforgiving gaze on Steve.

Pushing his vintage style brown framed glasses back up the skinny bridge of his nose, Steve dropped his gaze in respect to greet the most powerful man in their sect, "Herr."

"Steven," Schmidt coldly greeted.


	16. Sixteen

**Sixteen:**

Steve's gaze followed the brick-red, navy-blue, gold, and cream Persian rug to Schmidt's shiny black oxford shoes. Peeking up at the intimidating man, Steve found that he was still watching him. With a black gloved hand, he patted the antique sofa and suggested, "Perhaps we should discuss your transformative sixteenth."

Knowing that there would be consequences if he disobeyed, Steve held his head high and crossed the room. Stepping around the coffee table and going out of his way to squeeze past his uncles than to squeeze by Schmidt. Taking a seat on the sofa, Steve made sure to sit on the other side of the sofa. Making sure to elude to confidence and interest in whatever Schmidt was going to say.

"You are to arrive, next Thursday at ten, sharp, for prep. You are set to undergo the procedure at the witching hour," Schmidt firmly explained.

Silently, Steve sat there barely listening as Schmidt droned on. Even if Steve was hearing this information for the first time, he was sure that he'd still have trouble paying attention. Especially when his heart was upstairs under an -- albeit weak -- enchantment. Not to mention how he didn't want to even go through with his transformative sixteenth.

"Steven?" Schmidt prompted with a harsh quirk of his brow.

"Yeah?" Steve asked, distracted. Remembering who he was talking to, Steve straightened in his seat and quickly corrected himself, "Yes, Herr?"

Schmidt repeated himself, "Have you been studying?"

Sheepishly, Steve redirected his attention to his lap and fixed his glasses on his face as he admitted, "I was thinking…"

"Yes?" Schmidt coldly encouraged.

"What if I," Steve started, but quickly stop. He had to be smart about this. With the High Priest being in their living room, he was sure that it would cause a whole lot more trouble than his family already had been with him being a half breed. Pausing to gather his strength, Steve removed his teeth from his lower lip and suggested, "What if I postpone my terrigenesis?"

"Postpone?" Schmidt questioned. Mutely, Steve nodded his confirmation while keeping his gaze locked on his own lap. Sharply, Schmidt agreed, "I can see why you asked me to come instead of sending one of the doctors."

_Uncle Loki and Uncle Thor _**_requested_**_ for the High Priest to come here?_ Steve internally mused. Betrayal shocked him straight to his core as he snapped his eyes up to look at his uncles. They were supposed to love him. This was supposed to be his choice. They were supposed to support him in that decision. Instead, they felt the need to perform an intervention?!

Clenching his jaw, he narrowed his eyes at his uncles. Loki sat with perfect posture as he tilted his chin up authoritatively. Meanwhile, Thor was a bit more reserved, as though he was ashamed of betraying Steve this way. _As he should be_.

"Steven," Schmidt started, pausing to take in a deep breath to settle himself. Just from that alone, Steve was sure that he was refraining from doing something harmful. A chill ran down Steve's spine and he turned a bit more so he could easily watch the tall, slender, angular man.

Schmidt chose his words very carefully, "You've known about this your whole life. You're enthusiastically awaited the procedure for years. Why are you suddenly hesitant?"

Thickly, Steve swallowed and he schooled his eyes from not drifting towards the ceiling. Even if Schmidt didn't put it together that he was hiding his mortal boyfriend, it would appear that Hildy was the cause for his hesitancy. And Steve really didn't want to do that.

So, Steve desperately grasped at straws, "I just, uh, I just think… that… it would, uh, make more sense to, um, postpone it."

Schmidt's jaw clenched, causing Steve's entire body to tense. Unsure what Schmidt would do. After all, he was right. Steve had talked about his sixteenth birthday. Some might have even agreed that he did so enthusiastically. But that was before Bucky became his boyfriend.

"And how long do you need?" Schmidt composed with all his strength to not lash out. Steve could tell by the way that he tightly clenched his black leather gloved fists. Even though his knuckles were covered in material, Steve was certain that they were white.

Steve refrained from shrugging. This was absolutely not the time to be unsure about what he wanted. Of course, Steve knew what he wanted. And what he wanted was to honor both of his parents. Instead of dreading about how he would be letting down his mother and his enhanced family who raised him, Steve chose carefully, "Until after graduation."

"Why _then_ opposed to any other time?" Schmidt studied Steve.

_Shit_, Steve hadn't thought about giving a reason as to _why_ he would want to postpone his very important birth right. And he couldn't outright admit that he was in love with a mortal. The only reason why his mother hadn't been excommunicated was because she was the High Priestess. Steve wasn't. Steve risked not only being excommunicated, but he also risked Bucky's very life.

Luckily, it felt as though a noble Kree was on his side as he easily fibbed, "It would give me time to say goodbye to my mortal life. Everyone loses touch after high school. It wouldn't seem unusual."

"And if you're still not ready?"

Steve stared down Schmidt, "May Alveus devour my soul."

Schmidt relaxed at that. A ghost of a smirk on his face as his brow quirked every slightly. Almost as though he was amused by Steve. For a moment, Steve was smug.

That all changed though when Loki suggested, "Perhaps it would be easier to transition into his new life by spending some time at the academy. Go on the weekends?"

"I don't know about that, brother," Thor softly argued, not wanting to start something while the High Priest was in their living room.

"Why not? It's only fair," Loki challenged.

Steve held his breath, hoping that Schmidt would --

"I think that's a splendid compromise," Schmidt's lips curled ever slightly. The closest that Steve had ever seen the man smile. Schmidt stood then, and so did Steve's uncles. It took a moment for Steve, himself, to stand as his legs felt like jelly. Schmidt confirmed, "You'll start next weekend, as you were originally planned to do so."

"Marvelous," Loki agreed with a victorious grin while Thor gave him a stern glare.

Steve's head was swimming. Schmidt shook his uncles' hands before he held his hand out for Steve. Refraining from recoiling, Steve took the gloved hand in his and gave it as firm of a shake as he could and he repeated back to Schmidt, "Hail Hydra."


	17. Seventeen

**Seventeen:**

Once the High Priest was out of the house, a white hot rage started filling deep within Steve. Melting away his shock and causing an anger to rush hotly through his veins. Let it be known that Steve Rogers had a temper. A ferocious rage that he had inherited from Hela.

Hands shaking, Steve kept them in fists at his sides as he attempted to refrain from lashing out. Even though the sheer anger radiated off him and reverberated through the air, Steve tried his hardest to not lash out. Of course, that didn't mean that his energy wasn't bound to burst like a shaken soda can.

Steve's eyes were narrowed at his uncles. Specifically Loki. Steve doubted that Thor would pull a stunt like that. Especially after his own confession the night prior. Logically, there was only one person who would dare be so conniving and ruthless in the matters of what _he_ thought was right. Cautiously, Loki reached out, "Steve."

And just like that, Steve popped.

With Steve being the eye of the storm, stood motionless while everything else in the living room moved to life. The wooden legs of their antique furniture anxiously rattled against the hardwood floor as though they were trying to exit the room themselves. The picture frames on top of the fireplace mantle, and the heirlooms and trinkets locked away in hutches jingled and vibrated as though they were going to explode under the pressure of the harsh energy.

"How. Dare. You," Steve spoke with as much restraint as Schmidt had used.

"It's what your mother wanted," Loki reasoned.

"You didn't even ask me," Steve countered.

Flexing his tight, stiff fist, the books bumped against each other on the cases with so much force that they shook themselves right off the shelves. Each one that fell landed with a loud _thump_ on the floor. Steve ignored each one as he claimed, "This may be what my mother wanted, but what about what _I_ want?"

"You've talked about the academy for years," Loki debated. Speaking in a falsely calm tone in order to level Steve's mood.

"Did you ever consider that I could make up my own mind? Did you ever consider that I might want to follow in my father's wishes?" Steve's voice grew louder as the storm that was Steven Grant Rogers grew.

Soon, it wasn't just the living room furniture. The mugs clanged in the kitchen. The silverware clinked. The drawers and cupboard doors rushed open and slammed shut. They weren't alone though. Soon, the antiques that Loki and Thor and Hildy restored and customers perused started moving about their respective show rooms.

But it wasn't over. The storm in Steve grew like they did when he was a child and had his tantrums. Causing the wooden doors that separated rooms to slide in their tracks to noisily crash closed. The shutters smacked into the side of the house with so much impact that the walls rumbled. Or maybe Steve was causing that too.

Further, tree trunks swayed and branches shook. Wind whipping the fallen dead and crunchy leaves around into miniature cyclones. The edges of crispy leaves skittering along the side walk causing a sound akin to nails on a chalkboard as the wind itself whistled high in their ears.

"You didn't even ask!" Steve complained. The heels of his feet lifted off the floor, but he was much too light to be just standing on his tiptoes. No, the energy inside of him lifted him. Levitating ever so slightly with only the tips of his toes anchoring him to the floor, Steve accused, "You didn't even _think_ to ask!"

Loki's long black hair blew behind him as though a gust of wind was swirling around inside the house. The strands whacking around his face, but he kept his gaze on his nephew as he coaxed, "We are your guardians. We are meant to guide you and do what's best for --"

"I'm not a child!" Steve thundered just as the sky above them did.

Loki sternly reprimanded, "Then, stop acting like one!"

Another bout of thunder roared outside as Steve glared at his uncle. Under normal circumstances, Steve would've been able to see where Loki was coming from. He'd understand that all Loki wanted for him was the best. But Steve wasn't thinking with a clear head. His temper had boiled over and all he could see was how Loki had betrayed him.

Loki didn't back down though. He had the same temper as Hela. Or so Steve had been told. Nevertheless, Loki refused to bow to Steve's tantrum. It was one of the reasons why Loki was the disciplinary one.

Then, a strike of a blue lightning bolt shot through the room as Thor ordered, "Enough!"

As quickly as it had started, it was over.

The air stopped swirling. The furniture ceased in their movements. Steve dropped back down on the floor on heavy feet. Losing his balance, Steve grabbed onto the arm of the sofa.

Pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, Steve sniffled. With the anger gone, his body felt too exhausted and the tears fell freely from his face. All the plans that he imagined for a long life with Bucky Barnes would never exist. He realized that now, and his heart broke.

Tenderly, Loki placed a slender hand on Steve's crooked back and comforted, "Steve --"

"Don't," Steve weakly pushed his uncle off and started for the staircase of noodly legs.

"Little one," Thor softly prompted, taking a step after Steve.

Tiredly, Steve begged, "Just don't."

For a moment, Steve debated using the elevator. He rarely ever did. And he refused to do so then. With aching knees and a broken heart, he moved up the grand staircase and looped around to his room.

"They mean well," Hildy offered as she sat on the staircase that led to the third floor that she occupied.

Mutely, Steve waved off her comment and bodily shoved into his bedroom. Half of Steve had expected the spell to wear off. Finding that it hadn't was a bit unnerving, if Steve was being honest. Especially since the embarrassment of his tantrum was pumping through his veins.

There, on his queen size bed, Bucky stiffly sat. Bucky didn't turn to look at him, he just silently gazed in front of his in a haze. Causing Steve to hate his powers even more. He had never wanted to use them on Bucky. Even if it had been for the brunet's safety, it still made Steve sick.

Closing the door behind him, Steve crossed his room for his bed. Standing in front of Bucky, the glaze was still masking his steel-blue eyes, and Steve's stomach twisted. Wanting Bucky to come back to him, Steve cupped the brunet's face in his shaky hands and pressed an innocent kiss to his naturally too red lips.

Thankfully, it only took a moment for the spell to break. Instead, Bucky came back to himself and promptly kissed Steve back. Bucky's hands lovingly held Steve and pulled him closer. Which, Steve was more than happy to comply.

"Told ya," Bucky chuckled around Steve's lips, "You can't keep your hands off me."


	18. Eighteen

**Eighteen:**

After a fitful attempt at sleep, Steve rolled over to find Bucky soundly sleeping with his bare torso revealed from the blankets being bunched at his waist. Bucky slept half on his back with his left arm underneath Steve's head and his right arm carelessly resting along his exposed stomach. A soft snore poured from his slightly open mouth like a purr and coaxed a smile out of Steve. Steve sure did love that boy.

Attempting to not wake Bucky, Steve moved closer. Bucky's snore stuttered and Steve froze in his movements. Luckily, it was just a hitch, and the snores started up again. With the weight of the world lifting off of Steve's slender shoulders, he eased into Bucky's strong frame.

Pressing a kiss to Bucky's naturally defined pec, Steve slid his arm around Bucky's waist. Wanting nothing more than to hold the love of his life for as long as he could.

As the early morning sun leaked in through the crack in his curtains, Steve was content with having his ear against Bucky's naked chest. The soothing rhythm of Bucky's beating heart lulling him into a calmness that had been absent from Steve for months now. Steve knew that he needed to find comfort in this right now, but all he could do was dread the day when he wouldn't have Bucky there beside him.

Snoring stuttering again, Bucky groggily moved. Tightening his strong arms around Steve's petite frame, Bucky held him close as he rolled them both onto their sides. Facing each other, Bucky noticed that Steve's eyes were open and he smiled down at Steve as he rasped, "Morning."

"Morning," Steve mimicked. Nuzzling closer into Bucky's collarbones, Bucky sleepily rubbed his large hand over Steve's clothed back, and Steve wished that he had been confident enough to sleep without his sleep shirt.

Steve gave Bucky's middle a squeeze and Bucky asked, "How'd you sleep?"

"Dreadfully," Steve answered, taking in a deep breath of Bucky's natural musk and the lilac body wash that he used.

"'M sorry," Bucky apologized for something completely out of his control. Perhaps if he didn't know Steve as well as he did, he would've left it at that. But Bucky _did_ know Steve. He knew Steve so well that he knew that even if he prompted, there would be no way that Steve would open up about it. So, instead of questioning Steve, Bucky teased, "Guess ya better get used to my snoring, sweetheart."

With his face pressed to Bucky's soft skin, Steve smirked and playfully poked Bucky's side to cause him to squirm, "Maybe I'll just smother you in your sleep. At least then I'd get some shut-eye."

"Aw, pal," Bucky mocked a whine, tightening his grasp on Steve while he buried his face in Steve's messy blond hair. Yawning, Bucky murmured, "You'd miss me, if ya did that."

Although Bucky was right, Steve casually argued, "Nah. I'll be glad to get rid'a ya."

"Yeah, oh-kay," Bucky sarcastically agreed with a chuckle. Pressing a kiss to Steve's temple, Bucky easily confessed, "I know that I'd miss you."

At that, Steve desperately tried not to remind himself that he'd have to eventually give Bucky up. Instead, Steve inhaled Bucky's scent and let himself get dizzy in his affection. Holding Bucky even closer to himself, Steve kissed his collarbones and smiled when Bucky shuddered.

For a moment, Steve indulged himself by peppering Bucky's flawless skin with numerous kisses. Not knowing when he'd be able to do this again, Steve decided to take advantage of it. After all, here they were in Steve's bedroom with the door shut and locked. Even if Steve was positive that he could smell turkey bacon frying and cinnamon rolls baking, Steve pushed all of that out of his mind.

Voice cracking, Bucky softly warned, "Stevie."

Trailing kisses up Bucky's long neck, Steve feigned innocence, "I'm just kissin' ya, Buck."

"That might be true," Bucky paused as his breath hitched. Steve could feel the way Bucky's body was already responding and his own dick started to chub up. Tilting his head back to allow Steve to explore more of his skin with his lips, Bucky admitted, "The way your lips work makes me want to do wicked things with you."

Steve paused in his tempting kisses to bite his own lower lip while his toes curled. Steve had always imagined Bucky being his first. Even before they got together, Steve fantasized the many ways that he wanted Bucky to take him. Always wondered all the ways that Bucky would kiss and touch and feel. He had spent many a wank envisaging all the possibilities. Once they got together, the dreams only became more frequent and sharper in their tastes.

Sucking Bucky's earlobe into his mouth, Steve earned a soft moan from his boyfriend and he whispered, "Maybe I want you to. Maybe I'm hoping you will."

Bucky pulled back at that, causing Steve to weakly whine and try to hold onto him tighter. Of course, that didn't stop Bucky from pulling back and looking at Steve. Without his glasses, Steve couldn't see the way that Bucky was studying him, he just knew that he was. Especially when Bucky asked, "Are you saying what I think you're saying."

His gaze blurry, Steve confirmed, "Yes."

When Bucky didn't say anything, Steve rolled over and used his hand to feel around for his glasses on his side table. Slipping the vintage brown frame glasses onto his face, Steve rolled back over to face Bucky. Bucky's lips were pressed together, as though he was trying to fight a grin, and Steve openly smirked at him.

"Are you sure?" Bucky questioned with his eyebrows quirked high on his forehead.

"Never been more so in my life," Steve honestly answered. A bit more bashfully, Steve kept his gaze on Bucky's chest underneath his hands and confessed, "I've been wanting to for a while. Just always thought that you wanted to wait."

Before Steve could reassure Bucky further, Bucky surged forward, capturing Steve's lips in a giddy, passionate kiss. A kiss that Steve immediately reciprocated and enthusiastically encouraged as he tugged Bucky onto himself.

Bucky nestled himself between Steve's legs and zealously rolled his hips along Steve's. Both heady in their arousal as they moved in familiar ways that neither had ever explored further. Almost as though they were the last puzzle pieces that finally came together to create the full picture. Almost as though loving each other were written into their very DNA.

Holding his weight, Bucky broke the kiss and lovingly gazed down at Steve. Affectionately, Bucky pushed Steve's hair away from his face and stated, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Steve promised, snaking his hand up to the back of Bucky's head to tangle his fingers in the messy brown locks and pull him back in to a sweet, tender kiss.


	19. Nineteen

**Nineteen:**

Cleaned, dressed, and drunk on his love for the one and only, Bucky Barnes, Steve lead the way downstairs. Using the grand staircase rather than the family one, Steve purposely chose not to deal with his family. He was still mad as all hell at what they did to him yesterday. And he didn't want to deal with them today.

"Wait," Bucky tugged on Steve's arm. Bucky's brows furrowed and he gestured towards the kitchen, "Breakfast?"

"Um," Steve looked at the kitchen and took a moment to find his words. If he said what he was really feeling about his uncles, Bucky would want to try and fix it. And Steve didn't want that right now.

So, shaking his head, Steve tugged Bucky towards the front door and coaxed, "The orchard will have donuts." When Bucky still didn't seem sure about just leaving, Steve exaggerated a pout, "And you know how much I love those cinnamon sugar apple donuts."

Scrubbing his hand over his face, Bucky smirked as he teasingly complained, "You're gonna be the death of me, ya know that?"

"Yup," Steve cheerfully exclaimed, pulling Bucky out of the house and down the walk like the lovesick puppy he was. Not dreading on how true Bucky's words could be, Steve joked, "Better have a good life insurance policy. I'll wanna be a hot, rich widow."

"Yeah, okay," Bucky mocked, slinging his arm around Steve's shoulders. Pulling him close, Bucky scoffed, "I can just tell you're heartbroken about it. Makes me feel real special, pal."

"Shut up," Steve chuckled, shoving at Bucky but thrilling when Bucky only held him tighter. Smiling up at his boyfriend, he said, "You know I love you, right?"

Beaming down at Steve, Bucky confirmed, "I do." Kissing Steve's forehead, Bucky assured, "I love you, too."

"Well, that's good," Steve smirked, pretending to wipe imaginary sweat from his forehead. Climbing into the passenger seat, Steve continued, "Sure would've been awkward if ya didn't."

As Bucky walked around the front of his Chevrolet Cheyenne, he dramatically rolled his eyes, earning a bark of laughter from Steve. Although Bucky tried not to let on how amused he was, Steve still spotted the grin tugging at his lips. And as Bucky climbed into the cab of his truck, he didn't even try to hide his happiness as he simply reached over and took Steve's hand in his.

Feeling eyes on him, Steve refused to look back at the old Victorian house. Most definitely not wanting to deal with whichever family member was watching him disapprovingly as Bucky reversed out of the driveway. Steve couldn't tell if Bucky felt them being watched as they drove down the street, but Steve sure as all Maveth could.

Thankfully, the further away they drove from the Odinson house, the more Steve relaxed in the passenger seat beside his loving boyfriend. His very cute loving boyfriend. His very cute, loving boyfriend, who kept their fingers laced. Who kept their fingers laced while he occasionally brought their linked hands up to his mouth to press a sweet kiss to the back of Steve's hand.

The orchard was on the outskirts of town. It was a staple for families and couples to head on down to Stark Orchard where the long-standing motto was, "We grow 'em, you pick 'em!" And grow 'em, they did.

Apples ranging from crisp and sweet to crunchy and tart, everything in between and all encompassing. They were the best apples in town. Really, they were the best in the whole county, and could be argued to be the best apples in the state. Some of the townspeople even joked that Isaac Stark had sold his soul in order for his orchard to be the most bounteous, delicious orchard around.

Steve remembered asking Uncle Loki once if the rumors were true, but all Loki did was reminisce about how much of a bastard Isaac Stark had been. Of course, for every bad thing Loki had to say about the deceased patriarch, Loki waxed poetic about three other things. Mainly, the man's looks. Once, Loki had teased, "I would've cursed him with ever-lasting youth, if he wasn't so damn annoying."

Steve remembered asking about that too. Wondering if it was possible to do such a thing. Thor was the one to inform him that it never worked while Hildy warned to be careful with what he wished for.

Looking over at Bucky, Steve couldn't help but think that having Bucky around forever with him wouldn't be so bad. Even if he did have dreadful taste in movies and snacks.

"Why don't you take a picture, it'll last longer," Bucky teased, glancing over at Steve as he pulled into a parking spot.

Playfully, Steve rolled his eyes and shoved at Bucky's broad shoulder. Once the truck was off, Steve slipped from the passenger side and waited for Bucky to join him.

There were kids picking out pumpkins and couples walking hand-in-hand through the corn maze. It was an autumn aesthetic pinterest board come to life. And it was everything that Steve needed in that moment. Especially when Bucky draped his arm around Steve's shoulders and brought him close while he guided them towards the small building to the side that sold cider and prepackaged apples and --

"Donuts, first," Bucky grinned, casually dropping a kiss to the top of Steve's head.


	20. Twenty

**Twenty:**

"What d'ya think about this one?" Bucky questioned, eyeing a large pumpkin.

With his arms crossed along his slender chest, Steve evaluated the too-spherical, too-orange, too-pumpkinny pumpkin. That was another reason people said Isaac Stark sold his soul. Everything on his -- now his grandson, Howard Stark Jr's -- land was, "Too perfect."

"Christ, Stevie," Bucky exasperatedly sighed, putting his hands on his hips and tilting his head to curse skyward.

"Now, what would Bubbe think if she heard you use another man's God in vain?" Steve quirked a brow, mimicking Bucky by propping his own hands on his slender hips.

Bucky shook his head, but a smile was tugging at his lips. Pointing accusingly, Bucky informed Steve, "You're lucky you're cute."

"_You're_ lucky _you're_ cute," Steve corrected and childishly stuck his tongue out at Bucky.

While Bucky laughed, Steve scanned over the pumpkin patch. Noticing that there was a few near the back that people were ignoring, Steve decided to head over. Typically, just because something was being ignored didn't mean that it was no good. It just took a special someone to find it interesting.

Making sure not to trip over loose vines and roots or bump into someone else looking for the perfect pumpkin, Steve crossed the patch. Due to Steve's shorter legs, it didn't take Bucky long to catch up to him. Sliding his hand along Steve's, Bucky intertwined their fingers. _What am I gonna do with him? Too sappy for his own good._

At the unloved gourds, Steve stopped. Gazing adoringly down at the uneven, discolored and dented pumpkin, Steve grinned up at Bucky. Before Steve could even broadcast his desire, Bucky assumed with a smile, "This one."

"Yup," Steve smacked his lips as he enunciated his sentiment.

"You know," Bucky pulled away to survey the large soon-to-be jack-o'-lantern. "If I wasn't so confident in the fact that I'm a sexy mothafucka --" Bucky bent down to try and lift the pumpkin, groaned when he couldn't, and stood back up with a sigh "-- I'd be convinced you liked me because I fit in with all the ugly things you love."

Hands bracketing his hips, Bucky looked down at the pumpkin and then up at Steve. Looking at Steve almost as though he was about to ask if Steve really wanted _that_ pumpkin. But Steve didn't need to answer. Bucky knew that his boyfriend was stubborn. It was either that pumpkin or no pumpkin. And Bucky hated to even think about displeasing Stevie, especially this close to his birthday.

Looking past Steve, towards the shop, Bucky told Steve, "I'll go get some help."

"Okay," Steve nodded, agreeing. Pushing his glasses back up his nose, he stood on his toes and pressed a sweet kiss to Bucky's cheek, "You're the best boyfriend I've ever had."

"I'm the _only_ boyfriend you've ever had," Bucky corrected, but the smile on his face said it all. He kissed Steve once and started heading back across the field. Steve watched him go and Bucky turned around, "You just stand there and look pret--"

Tripping over the roots and uneven ground, Bucky nearly landed on his ass. Chuckling, Steve stated, "Serves you right, Bucky Barnes!"

"You love me!" Bucky gleefully replied, that same toothy grin on his face that made Steve's heart always skip a beat.

For a moment, Steve just stood there watching Bucky. Occasionally others around them took notice of Bucky, but that was nothing new. Bucky was one of the, if not _the_ most handsome boy in town. With those high cheekbones and naturally pouty lips, it was easy to see why girls and boys alike easily swooned.

The further Bucky walked, the more Steve's gut clenched. A breeze that felt like a breath on the back of his neck sent shivers down his spine and goose bumps naturally formed on his too-pale skin. Standing as still and as frigid as he could, Steve suppressed a shudder that wanted to rumble out of him.

Already fast heart racing even harsher in his chest, Steve's breath hitched at the sound of a twig snapping behind him. As much as Steve didn't want to turn around, it was exactly what he did. Nearly falling over in his haste to face behind himself and make sure that no men in white lab coats or Demon-God was going to sneak up on him.

Instead, he found a frail woman in the mouth of the corn maze. Her abdomen protruding out in front of her in a way that made her whole slender frame seem off-balance. Her bony fingers grasped at her large bump as she doubled over in pain and her mouth opened in a silent scream.

"Ma'am?" Steve questioned, stepping over twisted roots to aid the woman.

When the woman looked up at Steve with a deep fright washing over her expression, however, caused Steve to stop right in his tracks. Her gaze filtered down her own body, and Steve's eyes followed.

Blood trickled down her inner legs and Steve didn't know much about labor, but he was willing to bet that she needed a doctor. Now!

The woman's eyes widened and her horrified gaze hit Steve deep in his soul. Horrified, the woman turned and headed further into the corn maze. Steve's own eyes widened at that. She needed help! She needed a doctor!

"Ma'am?!" Steve called out again, quickly following where the woman had gone.

Following the blood that dripped along the dirt path, Steve's heart rate picked up. More blood was flowing and mixing with the dirt, causing bloody mud to form. Steve's stomach churned at the thought about not reaching that woman in time. When he heard an anguished scream, Steve's breath hitched and he took off running for her.


	21. Twenty-One

**Twenty-One:**

Taking sharp corners and bumping into the cornstalk walls, Steve's breathing grew erratic, but he couldn't stop. He needed to --

Suddenly, the blood stopped. Steve's steps stopped and he quickly turned to look for the woman. But there was nothing but corn.

Well, corn and a scarecrow.

Steadying himself into a stance that he learned for fighting bullies, Steve forced himself to look up at the scarecrow. More ominous than others with its tattered black coat and holey black hat. The scarecrow itself made from a faded burlap sack with no face stitched on. Steve wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.

Then, the droopy head tilted. As though it was lifting its head to look up at Steve. Steve's hands shook as he held them up in tight fists in front of him. Standing there for another moment, Steve tried to reassure himself that nothing had happened. That this was just a product of his overactive imagination.

Deciding not to stick around to figure out which it was, Steve started backing away from the monstrosity while keeping his gaze locked on the thing. However, the scarecrow lunged off its wooden post, charging right for Steve.

Instantly turning around to face the front, Steve took off like a shot. Taking the sharp turns and bumping into the loose walls even harsher. Needing to be faster than the thing, but not being able to outrun it fast enough as the monster caught on to the bottom of Steve's navy-blue flannel that peeked out from beneath his corduroy jacket.

It tugged Steve back, closer to itself, and Steve dropped to the ground. As he started being pulled back, Steve dug his hands into the dirt, unearthing clumps in his fight to get away while the monster started lifting Steve's petite frame from the ground.

With a spine-tingling, blood-curdling, screeching hiss, the scarecrow's claws were forcefully removed from the bottom of Steve's shirt, causing the material to rip. Steve dropped back down to the ground with a rattling _thud_, knocking the air out of him.

Not wanting to remain in such a vulnerable position, Steve quickly gathered his bearings and flipped over. Dried, golden brown leaves and abandoned corn husks fluttered down around him as the scarecrow had been barreled into the wall of the maze.

Eyebrows furrowed, Steve sat up and looked into the new hole where the scarecrow's clothes and burlap skin laid flat on the ground. On top of the inanimate body, was a slender, nearly bald white furred kitten. It sat there on the chest of the once-possessed scarecrow, licking their paw clean.

Slack jawed, Steve pushed his glasses back up his nose and moved to stand. The cat turned it's rather odd shaped head back to look at him with abnormally wide, wise eyes. Steve realized then that he was saved by a young flerken.

"Thanks," Steve breathlessly stated.

Softly, the flerken meowed in reply and hopped off the scarecrow. It's small body made their way over to Steve and purred as they rubbed against his leg. Returning the affection, Steve rubbed the creature between their large ears, earning an even louder purr as they pushed further into Steve. The little fur that they had was matted and dirty underneath. Appeared to be a stray flerken, and that just broke Steve's heart.

"You wanna come home with me?" Steve asked, figuring that it was the least he could do.

The purring only got louder at that. So, Steve eased himself upright and picked up the tiny creature. They curled into a loose ball on Steve's chest and he felt safer as he carried them out of the corn maze. Realizing now that there wasn't a trail of blood along the dirt path.

As much as Steve tried to find comfort in that, he knew better than to accept it as simple as it seemed. It never really was ever as it seemed. Steve knew it. After all, even a cat wasn't necessarily always a cat.

"There you are," Bucky announced, greeting Steve at the mouth of the maze. Standing in front of Steve, he noticed the kitten and simply shook his head, "You and your love for all things ugly."

Playfully, Steve covered the flerken's ears with his hand as though he was protecting it from Bucky. Really, not wanting to offend the very creature that just saved him. Of course, Bucky didn't mean anything by it and reached forward to tenderly stroke their ear, earning an appreciative purr in return.

"I think she likes me," Bucky proudly grinned, as if he had genuinely thought they wouldn't.

"Were you gonna get any more pumpkins?" A teen boy a few inches taller than Steve but sturdier asked, wiping his hands on a dirty, stained rag.

Bucky quirked a brow at Steve, silently questioning him. Steve looked over at the wagon where his deformed pumpkin and the one Bucky wanted sat, and shook his head. He didn't need another one.

"Cool," the boy nodded, reaching down and removing a pulley system that was rigged to the side of the wagon. Gesturing towards Steve, he said, "You can take her, too."

"Thanks," Steve smiled at his new companion.

"Gotta warn ya though," the boy said, "Don't cross her, or she'll be out for blood."

"Oh, c'mon, she's no threat to anyone," Bucky cooed, rubbing over their ear again.

"Either way, just be careful," the boy smirked. Chuckling to himself, he added, "Dad will be glad she's gone though. She sure didn't like him, but not very many do."

With that sentiment, Steve easily spotted the Stark genes. Wondering if the town gossip was true and that the youngest Stark member, Tony, was really going off to college at only fifteen. It wasn't particularly common for kids around there to head off to do bigger and better things. Unless they were part of the coven, but that was even rarer.

"Well," Steve started, holding the sleeping flerken closer, "Thanks for the blood-sucker."

"Of course," Tony good-humoredly scoffed. Gesturing over towards the little shop, he asked, "Need any more help?"

"No, that's okay. Thanks though," Bucky smiled and reached for the wagon handle, "We've got it from here."

With that, Tony nodded and headed back towards the house. Pausing, his brows furrowed and he gestured towards Steve's tattered shirt, "Looks like she already got you."

"Oh, um," Steve swallowed down his fear and lied, "Got it snagged on… something… It's not a big deal."

For a moment, Tony stood there. His brows set in a heavy furrow as he studied Steve for a moment. Almost knowingly. Which made Steve guiltily drop his gaze and duck his face into the flerken's fur. Sleepily, she licked at Steve's face, comforting him in the only way she really could in the moment. Without voicing his questions, Tony nodded another adieu and started back for his house.

As Steve watched him go, something in his periphery caught his eye. Spotting the woman he had chased into the maze. From the side of the house, wearing a bloody hospital gown, she watched him with sad, cold eyes. Effectively, chilling Steve to his bones and causing his blood to burn in his veins.


	22. Twenty-Two

**Twenty-Two:**

Back at Steve's house, Bucky pulled into the drive, being careful of the packed parking lot to the side. Following the winding path back towards the unloading area at the back of the house. Steve held his very own flerken in his lap and felt bad for having to disturb her. As Bucky cut the engine, he climbed out and headed around to the back of his truck, leaving Steve to debate whether he should move. She was just so cute and Steve hated thinking about waking her.

Deciding that he couldn't sit there all day, Steve hopped out of the passenger seat with the kitten in hand. While she softly meowed in protest, Bucky lowered his tailgate. Steve started heading for the house and told Bucky, "I'll get my uncles."

"Okay," Bucky nodded, climbing up into the truck bed to roll the pumpkins towards the tailgate.

Climbing up the porch rear staircase, Steve warmly smiled at the old women testing out the handcrafted rocking chairs and headed inside the kitchen door. Uncle Thor stood at the island, jarring jam. _Uh oh_, Steve couldn't help but think as he carefully closed the door behind himself. Typically, Thor only made jam when he was upset. Judging by large assortment of already jarred jam and how much he still had left to do, Steve could assume that Thor was very upset.

Feeling pretty crummy, Steve took in a breath to settle himself. Holding the flerkin closer, Steve took a step further into the room. Before he could start apologizing, however, Thor spoke.

"You know we care," Thor started, making Steve pause in his step. Thor kept his gaze locked on his task at hand and he continued, "Loki might not always go about it the most kind and best ways, but he loves you. Everything he does is because he loves you. You know that, righ--"

Facing Steve, Thor paused. Looking at the flerken in hand, Thor simply quirked a brow. Steve swallowed the lump forming in his throat and explained, "Something attacked me at the orchard; she saved me."

"She did, did she?" Thor questioned, crossing the room. As Thor carefully reached up, a small smile was on his face. Although, a bit more seriously, Thor asked, "What attacked you?"

Before Steve could explain, Thor took a step forward. His large hand held out to her, Thor was happily surprised when before he could even started petting her ear, the flerken started purring. Steve knew that he wouldn't have to convince his uncles to let him keep his new companion.

"I, uh, I'm not sure what it was," Steve admitted, fixing his glasses, "But it took the form of a scarecrow."

"A scarecrow?" Thor questioned, looking at his nephew. Steve nodded, but couldn't elaborate further. Redirecting his attention towards the young flerken, Thor's smile grew the more affection the kitten was and he asked Steve, "Does she have a name?"

"I --" Steve paused, thinking. Lifting the kitten to look her in the face, Steve studied her. After Tony said she was out for blood and due to her odd appearance -- especially her elongated, visible fangs -- Steve questioned, "Nosferatu?"

"As in, 'vampire?'" Thor clarified with a chuckle.

"As in, 'Count Orlok,' more specifically," Steve corrected with a smirk. Turning his attention back to the flerken, he asked her, "What do you think? Nosferatu sound good to you?"

Steve took her purring as agreeing, and nodded, bringing her close to his chest again. Thor petted her again and asked, "Where's Bucky?"

"Oh!" Steve remembered, gesturing out the kitchen window towards the rear of the house, "He's going to need help with the pumpkins."

"Got some big ones this year?" Thor chuckled, grabbing his jean jacket from off the coat hook.

"Of course," Steve answered with a smirk.

While Thor headed outside and around back, Steve crossed the kitchen and went up the family staircase. Petting the flerken between her ears, he cooed, "C'mon, Nosferatu. You need some cleaning up. Nos? Rat? Tutti?"

As Nosferatu purred again, Steve nodded, happy with the nickname, Steve carefully moved towards the second floor. Little Tutti needed a bath, desperately needed one. So, Steve carried her upstairs and over to his room. However, he stopped in the doorway when he spotted Goose on his bed.

Goose had been their only flerken for decades. Having been there through every part of Steve's life. And now, he had brought home a young flerken. From the looks of her, Tutti couldn't be more than a few months old. Already so strong and courageous, but young.

From Steve's bed, Goose moved from casually lounging to rigidly sitting. His gaze taking on one of protective and possessive. Steve held the kitten closer to himself and cautiously started for his bed. After all, they had to get to know one another, right?

Placing Nosferatu on the bed, Steve made sure that, if he needed to, he could remove the kitten from Goose's grasp. Sure, it wouldn't be that easy considering how dangerous flerkens could be. But above all else, Steve knew that Goose would never harm him.

"Goose," Steve started, reaching out to rub over the orange tabby's nose. Goose barely gave into the soothing sensation like he normally would, and Steve removed his hand as he introduced, "This is Nosferatu. Now, Tutti is going to be staying here. She saved me today, and I'd like to return the favor."

For a long moment, Goose just stared at the dirty, nearly bald kitten. It was easy to see that she needed a home. Correction: she needed a kind, loving home. And although Steve didn't always agree with his uncles, he knew that they were loving. Steve knew that Tutti would be loved here. Even if it was just Steve loving her.

Expecting Goose to make the first move, Steve was pleasantly surprised when his courageous companion cautiously moved towards the orange flerken. Staying in his spot, Goose stretched his head closer, so he could smell her. Finding her not to be a threat, Goose nuzzled Tutti as though she was his own, thoroughly warming Steve's soul.


	23. Twenty-Three

**Twenty-Three:**

"Oh, c'mon," Steve sighed in slight frustration as Nosferatu walked through the removed pumpkin guts and promptly started playfully swatting at one of the seeds.

"She's just having fun," Bucky defended, watching the kitten affectionately.

Steve narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend, "You weren't the one who had to wrestle her into a bath."

Bucky empathetically grinned and wiped his slimy hand off on his jeans before taking Steve's band-aid covered hand in his. Lifting it to his mouth, he pressed a kiss there and reassured, "If she still needs a bath later, I'll take care of it."

Despite himself, Steve smiled. Knowing with every fiber of his being, that if they were to become parents, Bucky would be a pushover. Let the kids walk all over him because he just wanted to see them happy. Steve had witnessed as much with how Bucky was when he babysat his cousins. As much as it annoyed his aunts and uncles, they never reprimanded him too much and every time that they needed a sitter, they'd call Bucky up because he was the best. Even if he did let them stay up a half hour past their bedtime or let them have an extra cookie after finishing their dinosaur chicken nuggets.

"You're such a pushover," Steve shook his head and took his hand back. Tutti bodily rolled in the orange innards in her play, thoroughly matting her naturally thin white fur. Giving Bucky A Look, Steve gestured over towards his young flerken and accused, "She gets this from you."

Feigning scandalized, Bucky's mouth dropped open as he squeaked out, "Excuse me?!"

"You heard me!" Steve kept it up, even though they both knew the truth. In their friendship and relationship, Steve was the troublemaker. The rebellious punk who did as he pleased.

Bucky shook his head and good-naturedly scoffed, "Punk."

"Jerk," Steve smirked, ducking his head back down while he pushed his glasses back up his nose and continued scraping at the outer skin of his oddly shaped and discolored pumpkin. Easily getting wrapped up in his artistic creation.

Beside Steve, Bucky let out a low whistle. Assuming that Bucky was complimenting his jack-o'-lantern design, Steve smugly looked up, only to find that Bucky wasn't even looking at his pumpkin. Rather, Bucky was looking out the living room doorway, where the wooden doors were open since _Nine Realms Antiques_ was closed.

Following his boyfriend's eyeline, Steve spotted his cousin leaving the grand staircase. Mimicking Bucky's sentiment, Steve's eyebrows arched high on his forehead and, he too, let out a low whistle.

In a black sequined tassel miniskirt and a long sleeve jeweled black mesh shirt, Hildy stood in the foyer. Braless, her nipples were concealed by ouija planchette pasties, and on her feet were a pair of pointed ankle boots. Running her hand through her kinky-curls, she turned towards the boys and asked, "Anyone see my hat?"

"Which hat?" Steve asked, quirking a brow.

Tapping the tip of her nose, Hildy confirmed, "That's the one."

"There's a black witch hat on the kitchen table," Bucky answered with a jerk of his head in the direction to the kitchen.

"You," Hildy pointed at Bucky. Making her way over to the kitchen by walking around the newspaper and the pumpkin guts, she grabbed the stereotypical black, crooked hat and finished, "Are the best!"

"I know," Bucky playfully exuded arrogance as he smiled over at Steve, wiggling his eyebrows.

Steve rolled his eyes at his boyfriend and looked over at his cousin. She held her arms out and asked, "What d'ya think?"

"That you're looking particularly festive tonight," Uncle Loki answered as he stepped down from the grand staircase.

Wickedly, Hildy smirked and winked at their uncle. Although Loki was smiling as well, Steve knew that there was a lecture waiting for Hildy when she got home. Specifically because of how she was _mocking our ancestors, blah, blah, blah_. Steve was sure that if Bucky wasn't there, Loki would've lectured her right there in the foyer, so Steve could hear it too.

"Well, it's the witching hour somewhere," Hildy slyly smirked and pulled on her black pea coat before kissing Loki's cheek and waving to the boys. Opening the front door, she called out for Uncle Thor, "Don't wait up!"

"Be safe!" Thor called from the kitchen, where he had been for the last three hours as he finished up his jarring and started making some treats with the Stark Orchard apples.

Fondly, Loki shook his head before spotting the teens. Steve and Bucky sat on the living room floor on old newspapers while the Disney Channel Halloween classic, _Under Wraps_ played on the TV. Nosferatu's light fur had an orange hue as she rolled around in the gourd's innards and Goose stayed perched in the antique chair, keeping them all in his protective gaze.

Making his way around the boys, Loki affectionately ruffled Steve's short blond locks and asked Bucky, "Did Steve tell you the good news?"

Steve's blood ran cold and he gritted his teeth as he glanced over at his uncle. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, but Steve was well-trained in spotting the spiteful determination molding the expression.

"Yeah," Bucky perked and gestured towards the kitchen, "Uncle Thor's making apple butter."

"Not that," Loki chuckled in his false mirth that caused a poisonous unease to churn Steve's stomach, "I was talking about Steve being accepted into the art preparatory."

Expression falling, Bucky's brows furrowed as he looked over at Steve. With guarded eyes locked on Steve, Bucky informed Loki, "No, he didn't."

"Oh, dear," Loki feigned concern and pretended to be embarrassed. Standing from his seat, Loki said, "I'll let you two talk."

Glaring after his uncle, Loki ignored Steve as he casually entered the dining room and closed the sliding wooden doors behind himself. Steve narrowed his eyes even further once he caught the smirk tugging at his uncle's lips. Briefly, Steve wished that Bucky wasn’t there so he could really give Loki a piece of his mind. Especially since the mood was no ruined.


	24. Twenty-Four

**Twenty-Four:**

"So, um," Bucky started but quickly paused. Focusing on his own carving, Bucky worried his lower lip and tried again, "You're transferring schools?"

Steve thickly swallowed and quietly confirmed, "Yeah."

"Were you going to tell me?" Bucky asked, his prominent jaw tight. It was clear that Bucky was trying to keep it together, effectively breaking Steve's heart. Especially when Bucky's lower lip quivered while he attempted to tease, "Or was I just going to show up here one morning and find out that you were gone?"

"I --" Steve felt the tears building in his eyes and he sniffled to keep the snot from running down his nose. This wasn't how Steve wanted his night to go. This wasn't how Steve wanted the week leading up to his birthday to go.

Not able to tell Bucky the truth, Steve reluctantly lied, "I wasn't sure I'd --" _be forced to go_ "-- get in."

"Stevie," Bucky sadly, humorlessly chuckled as he stopped in his jack-o'-lantern activities to pull Steve close, practically lifting him onto his lap. Instinctively, Steve buried his face in Bucky's broad chest. Tears started staining Bucky's red long sleeve tee, but Steve didn't care. Bucky rubbed smoothing circles into Steve's back and he rested his cheek on the top of Steve's head as he complimented, "You're the most talented person I know. Of course, you'd get in."

Steve nodded. His heart was absolutely broken and an anger was building in him. He should've been able to choose his own future. He should've been able to choose to be with Bucky. To leave the world he never wanted behind in order to live the life he desperately wanted. It just didn't seem fair that what he wanted didn't matter.

"What school?" Bucky rasped. Trying not to cry, Bucky's humor fell flat as he attempted to joke, "Maybe I can get a Talentless Sad Boyfriend Scholarship."

A wet chuckle startled out of Steve and he wiped under his glasses as he started, "Hy--"

Cutting himself off, Steve looked around the room for help. After all, there was no way that the name itself would spur on more questions. With the help of the Stark Orchard sticker and the paper next to Bucky's knee, Steve constructed, "Howard Young Preparatory Academy… of the Arts."

Bucky nuzzled his face into Steve's neck and sadly smiled, "Should've known you'd get into some ritzy art school."

Weakly, Steve shoved at Bucky's shoulder before wrapping his arms around Bucky's torso and holding him close. His glasses uncomfortably dug into the side of his face, but Steve didn't care. Holding Bucky was more important than his discomfort. Especially when he didn't know if Bucky would even want to still be with him considering he was going to a new school.

"When do you leave?" Bucky asked, his lips pressed against Steve's skin.

Deeply breathing to settle his nerves, Steve answered, "Friday."

"So, we can still celebrate your birthday?"

There was so much hope in his voice that more tears started to build in Steve's eyes. Sniffling, Steve confirmed, "Even if I left tomorrow, I'd do everything in my power to still celebrate my birthday with you."

"Thanks, pal," Bucky kissed Steve's temple.

Steve's ear was pressed to Bucky's chest. A calming _thump, thump, thump_ steadily beating from Bucky's healthy heart and Steve tried to focus on that. Bucky was important to Steve. He had always been important and he would always be important. There was nothing that Loki could do to change that.

Pulling away to look up at the handsome brunet, Steve asked, "You know I love you, right?"

"Of course," Bucky answered, but the jest that he usually used wasn't there. Kissing Steve's forehead, Bucky kept his lips there as he reassured, "I love you, too."

"Good," Steve sighed, some of the weight lifting off his shoulders. Leaning back to look at Bucky, Steve attempted nonchalance as he informed, "It's only a weekend school right now."

Pretending to wipe imaginary sweat from his forehead, Bucky joked, "Good, now I only have to compete with a weekend boyfriend."

"Jerk," Steve scoffed and shoved at Bucky's shoulder, "You don't have to worry about competing with anyone. There's only ever going to be you."

"Thank god, for that, punk," Bucky cupped Steve's face and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. Leaning his forehead against Steve's, Bucky quietly confessed, "I always thought it would be you and me… forever."

Steve's heart stuttered at that. Sure, Bucky had already said as much the other day. But Steve was sure that no matter how often he heard it, his heart would still react the same way. He hoped that it would, at least. No matter what happened, Steve hoped that he'd always feel this way. Hoped that Bucky would too.


	25. Twenty-Five

**Twenty-Five:**

Long after Bucky went home, Steve refused to speak to Loki. No, not even speak. Steve refused to notice Loki at all. It reminded Steve of growing up when Teddy used to pretend that he magically made Bucky disappear by playfully ignoring him. Only, Steve didn't make the same, "Oh, gee, this glass of chocolate milk came out of nowhere," comments that Teddy used to make. Nope, no, "Weird, the TV changed channels all by itself!"

Steve refused to acknowledge Uncle Loki for the rest of the night. Loki offered to watch another Disney Channel classic, but Steve acted as though Loki hadn't spoken at all and went straight up to his room. Loki brought a mug of hot chocolate to Steve's room, and Steve left it untouched on his desk. Loki reminded Steve to study his Hydra handbook, but Steve just kept sketching.

By the time that Loki realized that he wasn't going to win Steve over, Steve had settled in for sleep. Although Steve wanted to do nothing more than cry about the inevitably of losing Bucky, he was too exhausted after his long day. Nosferatu curled up to sleep on his pillow beside Steve's head, and she soothingly licked over his face as though he was Tutti's kitten.

One moment, Steve was closing his eyes to sleep. The next, a woman's anguished scream tore through the night, causing Steve's eyes to snap open. Immediately, Steve looked over the area. Half expecting to be in the woods like the other nights.

However, unlike the other nights, Steve didn't find himself running in the woods. He found himself at Stark Orchards.

Bare feet like the other nights, Steve walked up the gravel path. Eerily, the night seemed too hot, too muggy, and everything was dead. The cornfields dead and crispy. The pumpkins moldy and rotting. Maggots unearthed themselves and wiggled along the ground.

Being at the orchard at night set everything in a darkness that Steve had never witnessed before. The closer that Steve got to the seemingly abandoned house, the more tense his skin felt. Almost as though his skin was refusing to continue while his bones trenched forward. Almost as though his skin was caught on hooks that pulled him further back with each step, threatening to rip his skin right off his bones if he kept going.

Out of the corner of Steve's eye, he spotted the flicker of fire light. One lit torch multiplied to many. Lighting a trail that led into a forest behind the normally unassuming, but now ominous house.

Steve's heart raced and his hands turned clammy as, despite his better judgement, Steve started following the path. Another groan of agony came from somewhere nestled in the foliage of the forest. Everything in Steve warned him to turn back. But Steve needed to do everything in his power to --

"Push!" Someone demanded, the voice sounding faint as though through time, it was muffled like being under water.

"One more!"

"You're almost there!"

"He's almost here!"

Steve picked up his pace. Not caring if his feet were being cut open from the twigs that laid along the beaten path. It wouldn't be the first time that his feet had been caked in blood and mud. This time though, it felt different. It was more urgent that Steve get there. That Steve help as much as he could.

Then, a shrill baby cried, breaking through the night. Steve's blood ran cold as he pushed his legs further, farther. Not liking the taste of the air. Not finding comfort in the eeriness. Not liking that the woman had stopped making any noise as soon as the baby was heard.

Finally bursting through the trees to an opening, Steve stopped. Around the clearing, men and women in long dark robes surrounded those within. Chanting together while they stood as still as statues. A woman, laid motionless in the center. A white sheet draped over her frame where a swollen abdomen was most prominent. A white sheet that was soon drenched in her blood.

Stomach twisting into knots, Steve spotted his father. Joseph Rogers tenderly held a screeching newborn wrapped in a black cloth and still covered in the bodily fluids of their mother. Proudly, Joseph showed the baby to the figure beside him: Alveus.

While Steve took in the Magnificent Mollusk from Maveth, he couldn't get breath successfully into his lungs. Wide eyed and slack jawed, Steve stared at the parasitic inhuman as Hive gazed down at the baby. Then, the Hydra Lord turned his gaze from the baby in Joseph's arms to Steve.

With those red eyes on him, Steve couldn't hold back the scream that ripped through him and through the night. Loud, horrified, the scream reached octaves that Steve didn't know even existed. All the while, those eyes stared at him. Penetrated deep into Steve's soul to his very core.

"Steven!" Loki demanded, shaking his nephew awake.

Still screaming, Steve opened his eyes to find himself back in his room. Drenched in his own sweat, Steve clung to Loki's slender frame. And even though he was safe at his house, he still saw those eyes. Those red eyes. Those dead eyes. Eyes there were burned into his own retinas and would be difficult to forget about. The eyes of nightmares that Steve had long since repressed.


	26. Twenty-Six

**Twenty-Six:**

Gathering all the strength he could, Steve mustered enough confidence to knock on Loki's office door. Although Steve would've liked nothing more than to ignore Loki for the rest of the week, he knew that he needed answers. Something wasn't right about Stark Orchards. And Steve knew that if anyone knew something that no one else did, it was his mischievous uncle.

"Yeah?" Loki answered from inside his office.

With the loose invitation, Steve cautiously opened the door. Finding Uncle Loki at his desk, casually writing in one of his many journals. Softly clearing his throat to announce his presence, Steve hoped that he wasn't interrupting too much. After all, Steve was positive that he wasn't the only one annoyed at the other person in the room.

"Are you busy?" Steve quietly asked, worrying his lower lip with his teeth as he evaluated his uncle. Since it was Sunday -- the only day that _Nine Realms Antiques_ was closed -- Loki was dressed as casually as he ever got. Lounging in a pair of black slacks and a cozy gray sweater with his shoulder length black hair in messy waves from not styling it.

At that, Loki paused in his writing. Looking over his shoulder, Loki gave Steve a cursory once-over before setting his pen down. Turning completely to face his nephew, Loki snidely remarked, "Are done pouting like an incessant brat?"

Settling an unamused glare at his uncle, Steve honestly answered, "Not necessarily." Loki turned back around to face his desk and Steve sighed as he admitted, "But I am curious about something."

Intrigued, Loki twirled his seat back around. Crossing his arms along his chest, he quirked a brow, "I'm listening."

Nodding, Steve closed the door and crossed the room to take a seat in the old, worn-in shiny black leather chair. Settling into the high-back seat, Steve started, "Are the rumors about Stark Orchards true?"

"What rumors?" Loki questioned, gauging his nephew's mood the way that he did with everyone. Considering how Steve had a temper tantrum not too long ago, it wasn't as unsettling as other times.

"You know what rumors," Steve answered. Sighing, Steve wrung his hands and leaned forward to lower his voice, "Did Isaac Stark make a deal? Or did any of the Starks?"

Loki took in a deep breath, easing his own nerves while causing Steve's stomach to coil at the possibility. Shifting in his seat, Loki finally confirmed, "Yes."

Steve's brows rose high on his forehead. No matter how much he had anticipated for that very answer, Steve still couldn't believe that it had been true. Made Steve wonder about the other rumors about his town. Of course, he already knew that the rumors about his own family were nowhere near being accurate. But Steve realized that not many people had that wild of an imagination to properly know what his family was actually involved with.

"What deal did he make?" Steve quickly asked, trying to wrap his mind around it all.

"I'm not sure what the deal entailed," Loki confessed. Looking mildly uncomfortable, he tucked his dark locks behind his ear, "I wasn't there. From what I gathered though, there wasn't a set term. A deal with Hive was made with Hive seemingly not wanting any from Stark in return. Simply asked that, when the time came, the Starks would return the favor. That they'd know when it was time to collect."

A chill ran down Steve's spine, "Return the favor?"

Loki nodded, and Steve thought back to his dream. The dead, rotting plants. The spoiled Earth. The corpse of a woman who had just given birth. It was clear that he had seen what Alveus had wanted. Steve had witnessed the offering, and it made Steve sick. Steve felt bile rise and he was certain that he was going to puke.

"Steven?" Uncle Loki questioned, hovering around Steve's slender frame.

Flashes of his previous night's dream blurred in his vision. Everything seemed off. Sure, Steve knew that his father had been a doctor, but why would he show the baby to Alveus as though he was a proud --

_Oh no_, Steve swallowed down the sickness that rose in him. Lifting his eyes to look at his uncle, Steve remorsefully asked, "Did Howard have a daughter?"

Loki had been pushing Steve's hair off his damp forehead, but at Steve's inquiry, Loki froze. Eyes prodding and assessing, Loki looked over Steve. The longer it took Loki to answer, the more anxiety built inside of Steve. Even if Loki hadn't confirmed, "Yes," the silence alone would've been answer enough.


	27. Twenty-Seven

**Twenty-Seven:**

Article upon article, Steve poured over everything he could about the Stark family. So far, all he could find about a Stark daughter was a sole obituary. And even then, it was so obtuse that Steve doubted it was even the right person.

The more Steve dug and the less he found, Steve wondered why they would keep her a secret. If Howard Stark had a daughter, surely there would be something about her. She had existed. Loki had said so. And Steve trusted Loki's memory more than a lack of paper trail.

Especially since Steve was stuck scrolling through all the archived newspapers instead of finishing some homework that he left for the last minute. In the quiet school library, hidden away in a secluded corner, Steve delved into his own investigation. Desperately needing to understand why he was having these strange vis--

"Boo!" Sharon whispered in Steve's ear, poking Steve's sides.

Nearly jumping entirely out of his skin at the surprise, Steve held his chest as he looked over at Sharon with wide eyes while trying to catch his breath. Sharon held her hands up in surrender, but she was also trying not to laugh at pulling one over on Steve.

Removing his glasses, Steve rubbed at his tired eyes and deadpanned, "I guess, ya got me."

"Yeah, I did," Sharon giggled and pulled up a chair beside him. Gesturing towards the computer screen, Sharon curiously asked, "What cha up to, Rogers? Shit, I didn't forget a history project, did I?"

"Nah," Steve reassured. Hoping that she hadn't looked too deeply into the newspaper clippings that were currently on the screen, Steve casually closed the tabs, "Just… bored."

"Bored?" Sharon quirked a brow and watched as Steve logged off the school computer. Steve nodded, but Sharon didn't seem too convinced. For a moment, Steve attempted to think up an excuse, but stopped when Sharon laughed and teased, "You sure do have some funny hobbies."

"I'm sorry, but who crochets different hats for their friends' cats?" Steve snarked with a quirked brow and a good-humored smirk.

"Shh," Sharon replied, trying to hold off her own giggles as she playfully held her hand over Steve's mouth to stop him from talking.

Childishly, Steve licked Sharon's palm and earned a squealed, "Ew," from the tall blonde. Standing from the computer table, Sharon wiped her hand on her jeans while Steve slung his backpack over his shoulder. Pushing in his chair, Steve started following Sharon out of the library, just in time for the bell to ring, ending their free hour.

As the pair walked down the hallway, Steve became increasingly aware that Sharon was looking at him. A bit hesitantly, Steve glanced out the corner of his eye at the other blonde, still not entirely convinced that she had been looking at him. For a moment, convinced that he was just paranoid. Of course, that changed when Steve's observation was correct. Sharon was watching him. With a funny crinkle to her brows, she studied Steve unabashedly.

"You okay?" Sharon finally questioned, breaking the silence like a spell.

"Of course," Steve lied, nervous giggling being an easy tell.

Sharon pursed her lips like she was trying to decide if she should say something. That was one thing that Steve both appreciated and loathed about Sharon. Sharon was considerate. Thoughtful in the way she spoke. Most times, it was a relief to be friends with someone who knew when not to say something. Other times, when she decided against speaking her mind, it made Steve anxious. Made him worry that whatever Sharon was thinking would be harsh. Harsh, and right.

Wincing with his own decision, Steve decided, "Just say it."

After all, if Uncle Loki had his way, Steve wouldn't be spending very much time with his mortal comrades. So, Steve thought it'd be best to have what they thought about him out in the open. Air out all their grievances before he disappeared to a _prestigious art preparatory_.

"Nothing," Sharon started, casually opening her locker. With a shrug, she added, "Just seems like you're stressed lately."

Preparing for an argument, Steve felt the words on his tongue. Tasting the bitterness of his own lies as he took in a breath to steady his voice. Before he could say anything though, a mischievous glint sparkled in Sharon's eyes while an impish smirk tugged at her lips, "Especially with this being Stevie-palooza!"

"Oh god," Steve groaned and brought his hand to his forehead, as though the width of his hand could cover his whole face. As though it could hide his embarrassment. Which, it couldn't. The only thing that could do that was if the ground opened up and swallowed him whole. But that wasn't very likely either.

"Oh, c'mon," Sharon playfully pleaded.

Steve peeked through the gaps of his fingers and watched as Sharon pulled out the dreaded gaudy Stevie-palooza pin-on birthday ribbon. The custom made badge was made with different Halloween ribbons that had been found with Great Aunt Peggy's things. Wired black ribbon spotted with orange polka-dots. Beige printed wraps with yellow eyes peeking out from between a mummy's bandages. Decaying green with oozing brains and bones poking out from severed arms. Sheer white webbing with realistic black spiders that occasionally spooked their classmates if they hadn't been paying attention. All of them having been weaved and glued into something for Steve to wear.

"No," Steve backed away with his hands raised to keep Sharon at bay.

"Steven," Sharon attempted to be firm, but found herself giggling as she held it out towards Steve. Switching up her tactic, she teasingly pouted, "It's Stevie-palooza!"

When that didn't seem to work though, Sharon reminded, "We all wear ours."

And it was true. Sam, Bucky, Sharon, and Steve all celebrated their birthdays as week-long extravaganzas. Each had a personal, ridiculously crafted corsage for their own paloozas. It was a thing that they did for each other. Proudly proclaiming their births and feeling damn special for at least one week out of the year.

It had started back when Sharon felt uneasy with people teasing her about being born on the 13th. She hated being called bad luck when her birthday fell on a Friday, so the rest of the group decided to celebrate for a full week. That way, people wouldn't tease her so much. Also, the guys just thought that Sharon deserved to be appreciated just a little bit more.

It also benefited Steve too, considering everyone called him Hell-spawn for being born on Halloween. But it started with Sharon. From then, it became another thing that they did. One of their many traditions that was as easily ingrained in them as their own families' traditions.

Suddenly, sadness started seeping into Steve. How many more paloozas would he have? How many more traditions could he indulge in? How much time left did he have to be surrounded by the love of his friends?

Sharon's hand holding the frilly birthday badge dropped and her brows furrowed as she read Steve's expression like a book. Concerned now, Sharon confirmed, "You don't have to wear it if you don't want to."

Mutely, Steve shook his head. With their deadline ever approaching, Steve took the corsage in his hand and carefully pinned it to his black t-shirt. The damned thing nearly covered his whole slender chest and the tasseled ribbons at the bottom fell the length of his short torso. But he didn't care how ridiculous he probably looked.

Instead, he puffed out his chest, trying to take up more space and dramatically demanded, "Worship me!"

"Don't I always?" Bucky chuckled as he came up behind Steve, smacking a kiss to the side of his face while his arms securely snaked themselves around his petite frame.

Sharon rolled her eyes at Bucky's public display of affection and tossed a wadded up piece of paper at them. Before either Steve or Bucky could retaliate, Sam came up behind Sharon and playfully poked her sides, causing her to squirm away. As she looked behind herself to find a chuckling Sam, Sharon swatted at him and scolded him with a, "You tryin' to give me a heart attack, Wilson?" Which made the boys laugh even more.

Standing there in the noisy hallway, wearing a hideous ribbon on his frame, Steve eased into Bucky's grasp. Placing his hands on top of Bucky's, Steve laced their fingers and rested his head on Bucky's chest. Affectionately, Bucky dipped down and pressed a sweet kiss to the top of Steve's head. He knew that he would give up every last ounce of magic to stay there with his friends forever.

Until, of course, he spotted the same bleeding woman from his nightmares staring at him from across the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sooooo, my surgery is tomorrow and I'm hella nervous. I got the results from my ultrasound and it's understood that I most likely have endometriosis and that the surgery will be more about removing the 5cm layer around my uterus and taking care of the cysts in/surrounding my ovaries than simply exploratory. Which is hella nerve wracking.
> 
> So, I probably might not be very active since I'm already drained from my infusion therapy session and will be recovering. Send all the good vibes that you can, please!
> 
> Much love and appreciation  
Minnie ❤❤❤


	28. Twenty-Eight

**Twenty-Eight:**

Much to Steve’s dismay, the week flew by. With surprised kisses and poorly hand-crafted cards, Steve wondered if Bucky would’ve always celebrated his birth this way. Of course, Steve found it difficult to properly enjoy the affection that Bucky and their friends poured over him as though they were watering a dying plant in hopes that it would sprout new life. Much to Steve’s chagrin, he knew that he would sprout much sooner than he wanted and his friends wouldn’t be there to reap the benefits of his soon-to-be impenetrable health.

In a haze, Steve wandered the halls and attended his classes, but he wondered what the point was anymore. Sure, Steve tried to enjoy Stevie-palooza to the best of his abilities. But living with the nightmares and visions were slowly eating away at him and leaving him a shell of the boy he usually was during his birthday week. It seemed as though every time, out of the corner of his eyes, he was reminded of one of those terrible dreams. Knowing deep down that they were a warning, but absolutely refusing to seek out what they were really trying to show him.

The week sped by so quickly that when he woke up on Thursday, he had completely lost track of time. Only realizing that it was his actual day of birth by his family bombarding him with singing _Happy Birthday_. Streamers were elegantly twisted along the ceiling and balloons bobbed off to the side with their ribbons hanging down, tempting Nosferatu into playing with them.

Uncle Thor and Cousin Hildy each with large toothy grins on their faces while black and orange striped party hats sat securely on top of their heads. Even Uncle Loki had jovially joined in with a matching smile and hat upon his person. Of course, Uncle Loki had always enthusiastically participated in Steve’s birthdays. It probably shouldn’t have surprised Steve as much as it did, but it had surprised him due to how coldly they both had been treating each other over the week.

“Make a wish!” Hildy excitedly demanded as Thor held a simply decorated maple pear cake out to Steve.

Brows furrowing, Steve stared at the flickering flames of the sixteen candles. _Make a wish?!_ Steve was sure that his family already knew what he wanted. What he had been wishing for years now. Ever since that moment when he looked up at Bucky and suddenly wondered what his lips would feel like. Steve’s family knew. They just had to. And this just seemed cruel.

So, instead of playing along, Steve grabbed an apple from the fruit basket and turned to head back upstairs. Promptly, Steve changed out of his baggy blue sleep shirt and flannel pajama pants. Since it was Halloween, Steve bypassed his typical clothes and reached for his costume. Knowing full well that not only would his friends be dressed up, but most of the faculty and student body would be too.

After wrestling into the green tights that he borrowed from Hildy, and making sure that his black shorts weren't against the school protocol, Steve finished slipping into the rest of his costume. As though simply pretending to be someone else was all it took to lift Steve's mood, he practically skipped down the grand staircase.

Making sure to scratch between Goose's ears on his way towards the door where the doorbell rang. Fixing the soft, pink fuzzy slippers that Steve borrowed from Bubbe Ava, Steve allowed Tutti to lick his fingers and reached for the doorknob.

Once the door was open, Steve's eyes traveled from the navy-blue rain boots, over the pale, hairy legs, and widening at the very tiny pair of black shorts. With his brows arched high on his forehead, Steve stood upright to look at his boyfriend.

Bucky allowed his own gaze to roam over Steve's appearance, drinking in his petite frame while he attractively chewed on his lower lip. Once Bucky's eyes locked with Steve's, a blush started coloring the apples of his high cheekbones, and he complimented, "Gotta say, Stevie. You make one hell of an attractive Mermaid Man."

Playfully, Steve rolled his eyes and slipped on his tan corduroy jacket over his orange long sleeve tee and the purple sea-shell bra that he borrowed from Hildy. Fisting his hand around the material of Bucky's red long sleeve tee, Steve pulled him in and teased, "Tryin' to butter me up, Barnacle Boy?"

"Always," Bucky smirked, a mischievous glint in his steel-blue eyes that seemed even brighter thanks to the blue ascot around his neck.

Closing the door behind them, Steve pulled Bucky down into a kiss. Wondering how someone could make navy-blue rubber cleaning gloves look so good. As though reading Steve's mind, Bucky said around Steve's lips, "You should model green cleaning gloves. I know I'd do chores more often if you're handsome face was on the box."

"Sap," Steve scoffed and pushed Bucky's lanky frame away from him. Turning around to head down the porch steps, Steve didn't get very far as Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve's waist. As Bucky pulled Steve in and lifted him in the air, Steve squealed, "James Buchanan!"

Chuckling, Bucky smacked a wet, loud kiss to Steve's neck before setting his boyfriend down. Playfully, Steve swatted at Bucky and led the way over to the dark green truck. Vaguely, Steve was aware that Bucky was keeping back a few steps behind him. Making it almost entirely translucent that Bucky was checking him out.

As Steve opened the passenger door for himself, Bucky let out a low whistle, "You know what, I don't think that those shorts are school appropriate."

"Why not?" Steve's brows furrowed and he paused in his movements to climb into the Chevrolet. Genuinely considering turning back into the house to change into something a little more conventional.

Bucky's eyes roamed over Steve's body again, "Because your ass looks absolutely amazing."

"You're an absolute horn-dog," Steve shook his head and pulled Bucky in for another kiss.

"Only for you, pal," Bucky smirked into the kiss, "Only for you."

Teasingly, Steve rolled his eyes and shoved Bucky away. Making sure to give Bucky's bum a pat as he headed around to the driver's seat. The smile on Bucky's face as he climbed into the cab of the truck beside Steve, was a smile that Steve wanted permanently burned into his corneas.


	29. Twenty-Nine

**Twenty-Nine:**

"Shit," Steve sighed as he dropped his book, causing all the loose papers to flutter and fly about around his feet. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath to gather himself, and promptly bent down to pick up his things.

As he grabbed the papers, Steve spotted a pair of bright pink ballet flats tapping along, heading his way. Only pausing in their movement once they reached him. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, Steve looked up at Sharon as she tightened her high ponytail. Her rainbow leg warmers and shiny blue unitard being in Steve's periphery, but still teasing his lips to quirk up in a smirk.

Leaning against the row of lockers, Sharon crossed her ankles and asked, "How likely do you think it would be for me to get off for pleading insanity?"

"Well," Steve scoffed, shoving his papers randomly into the book and standing upright, "Considering you're premeditating, probably not very likely."

"Damn," Sharon deadpanned while occupying herself with her brightly colored, sparkly plastic bracelets.

Steve fixed his glasses and quirked a brow, "What's going on?"

"Just stupid --"

"Hey, Carter!" One of their classmates interrupted. As he continued down the hallway, past them, he continued his teasing, "Any way to get your knees to bend better than an actual Barbie doll's?"

"Who the hell are you tryin' to impress, Miller?" Sharon questioned, looking around to further her point that he was making himself out to be an absolute jackass.

Jeremy Miller blushed and ducked his head, clearly ashamed while Sharon rolled her eyes and tightened her ponytail again. Steve had to give her props; she did make a good Barbie. If Barbie had a murderous glare and a badass set of skills that put dickheads in their place.

Underneath Sharon's strong exterior though, Steve knew she needed some reassurance today. And since Steve wasn't sure what was going to happen after tonight, he decided to do his best in making his friends stronger in case it was their last night together.

Leaning against the locker door, Steve feigned wistfulness as he sighed and honestly complimented, "You're so cool."

Although Sharon was fighting it, the smile broke through her forced resting bitch face and caused her to giggle. Almost as though the air was lighter as Sharon shoved at Steve's shoulder. Losing his footing, Steve dramatically flailed his arms as though he was going to fall while earning genuine laughter from the other blonde.

However, someone caught him before he could follow through in making one of his best friends laugh. Turning his head, Steve found none other than his other best friend, the one and only, Sam Wilson. Righting Steve's balance, his biceps bulged against the teal cheetah print short sleeve button up shirt that he wore. Dressed as _Toy Story 3_'s Ken, Steve quirked his brow at the above the knee pale blue shorts that stretched indecently around his thick thighs.

"Well," Steve allowed his wide eyes to roam over Sam's body before reaching up to rap his knuckles against the plastic brunet hair cap that Sam wore. Steve nodded approvingly, "So far, you're most definitely my favorite Ken Doll."

"Don't I know it," Sam theatrically flipped his head as though he was attempting to flick his unmovable hair. Since it was a comical sight to witness, Sharon nearly toppled over in her laughter.

Affectionately, Sam winked at Sharon causing her to exclaim, "The perfect Ken."

"To the perfect Barbie," Sam finished.

As the pair exaggerated their gazes at each other, Steve playfully rolled his eyes. Turning back around to face his locker, he went back to sorting his items and exchanging his textbooks. Sam and Sharon were in one of their compliment battles to see who could make the other blush. Sam with his, "You're so sweet, you're gonna give me a cavity," and Sharon with her, "I'm starting to think that the Greeks molded statues in honor of you; too bad they absolutely pale in comparison."

So far, Steve was the one losing as his naturally alabaster cheeks started turning a bright red. To which, Steve was positive was the entire point of the game. Of course, Steve didn't like playing along, so he made a pointed effort to appear unshaken by their little game.

"Wait," Bucky exclaimed from behind him. Startled, Steve nearly jumped out of his own skin as Bucky reached over his head to grab his textbook from the top shelf. Placing a steadying, soothing hand on Steve's waist, Bucky didn't tease him and instead continued with his previous thought, "You guys know that this is my favorite game! The way Steve blushes is so pretty."

Bucky teased, poking Steve's red cheek and softly chuckling when Steve scrunched his face in mock annoyance. When Steve turned around, he playfully glared at his boyfriend. Sweetly, Bucky started peppering chaste kisses around Steve's face until Steve erupted into a fit of giggles.

Grinning, Bucky bent his knees so he was face-to-face with his adorable beau and kissed him. It was a syrupy-sweet kiss that seeped into Steve's bones and caused his muscles to relax in the warmth of Bucky's love. Allowing it to simultaneously ground him while floating straight to cloud nine.

That was, however, until Bucky's hands wrapped tightly around Steve's neck. Strangling him and keeping the air from Steve's lungs. Panic started rising in Steve's small frame and he desperately needed to get his hands up to remove Bucky's too big, too strong of hands. The longer he went without air, the less he was able to move his body.

"Get a room," Sam commented, his voice floating away while Sharon agreed and Bucky's fingers tightened.


	30. Thirty

**Thirty:**

The sounds of his classmates shuffling about in the hallway became muffled. Voices distant. Slams from locker doors barely registering. Steve's body was increasingly becoming more limp the longer he went without a proper breath, and the fear started to be the only thing he felt.

From beside him, a deep voice sneered, "Is this really the life that you want? Where you're weak? Where you're powerless? Where your life can so easily be taken?"

Using the last of his strength to push himself away from Bucky, Steve harshly slammed against the locker next to his. Eyes wide and gasping for breath, Steve lost his footing and slid down the wall until he landed on his ass on the hard, cold floor.

"Steve?" Bucky questioned, his brows furrowed and panic in the creases around his eyes. Crouching down, Bucky cupped Steve's face as he assessed his boyfriend's terror and breathlessness.

Steve couldn't answer though. Black spots were starting to swim around in his vision as Bucky muttered a, "Fuck," under his breath as he stood. Reaching into their locker, Bucky quickly located the inhaler and moved to help Steve use it.

Off to the side, Steve spotted a flutter of a white lab coat. Pushing himself further back, Steve thumped the back of his head against the locker. Briefly, Steve's short blond hair caught in the vent, but Steve couldn't pay any attention to that. All he could focus on was the white lab coat. All that mattered was the white lab coat.

Bucky dropped onto his knees in front of Steve and held the inhaler up to his mouth. Steve's fearful eyes remained wide and continued to watch the crisp white lab coat. Bucky administered the medicine to Steve and leaned back, still fearful himself.

"Breathe," Bucky pleaded, administering another puff of the medication.

But Steve could only focus on the lab coat. Dark red was blooming on the crisp material, staining it until it was nearly black. Creeping up and around as though it was mold. Steve couldn't look away. Simply frozen in shock and not able to do anything but stare.

Trying to comfort his boyfriend, Bucky smoothed Steve's hair. Running his hand down the back of Steve's head, Bucky pulled his hand back to reveal dark red blood on his fingers. Steve couldn't look at Bucky though. Of course, out of his periphery, Steve noticed the way that Bucky's brows furrowed and the fear that twisted his lips down into a deep frown.

"Go get the nurse," Bucky ordered Sam, who quickly turned and rushed down the hallway. Cupping Steve's face, Bucky forced his beau to look at him. It took a lot more strength than Bucky had probably intended, but that didn't deter him.

Once Bucky finally managed to break Steve's gaze from the lab coat, Steve gasped in a deep breath. Tears started streaming down Steve's face and Bucky immediately started gently wiping the tears away. With a shaky hand, Steve touched the back of his head.

With his fingers coming back with warm, wet blood, Steve softly whimpered, "Ow."

"You okay?" Bucky questioned, remaining close but not crowding him.

Unlike the group of people that were forming around them. Thank Maveth for Sharon who loudly shooed the students away with a, "Jesus Christ, don't you have anything better to do than gawk at someone who's having an asthma attack?!"

"Sam's getting Nurse Janet," Bucky reassured Steve when he hiccupped a quiet sob.

Silently, Steve nodded and instantly regretted it. Feeling as though his brain was loose and rolling around in his skull like loose marbles. Bucky's hands stayed cupped on Steve's face as he whipped Steve's tears. Steve might not have been very observant at the moment, but he knew that Bucky was desperately trying to comfort him.

Steve's hand shook as he covered Bucky's hand and leaned into the touch of Bucky's warm palm. Steve closed his eyes, trying to calm himself further. Logically, Steve knew that Bucky would never harm him. But he snapped his eyes open and immediately glanced away from Bucky.

Over Bucky's shoulder, he spotted the lab coat. Only, it wasn't some Hydra agent. It belonged to their classmate, Scott. Their classmate who couldn't get to their locker because Steve was bleeding up against it.

"Sorry, Scott," Steve meekly apologized, mustering up all the strength that he could in order to move out of the way.

"It's okay," Scott shrugged it off with an easy grin. Arching his brows, he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Steve breathily assured, even though his breath wasn't coming quite like it should and his head was still bleeding.

"You allergic to chocolate?" Scott questioned and reached into the deep pocket of his lab coat. Steve slightly shook his head in his confirmation and Scott smiled as he handed him a mini Hershey's bar. Still smiling, Scott wished, "Happy Halloween."

"Thanks," Steve smiled down at the piece of candy in his hand.

"Of course," Scott stated, deciding to not get in his locker and instead to just head to his next class. A few steps away, Scott paused and turned back around so he could exclaim, "Oh, and happy birthday, Steve."

Steve slumped, relaxing and repeated, "Thanks."

Scott nodded and turned to continue down the hallway. Steve's gaze watched his form and the way his cheap costume lab coat fluttered. It was so obvious that it wasn't a real lab coat now. Even without it being so thin it was nearly translucent, Steve couldn't believe that the wrinkles didn't clue him in.

Of course, Steve had also hallucinated that his soulmate had been strangling him. Reaching up with a shaky hand, Steve touched his neck. Wondering how Hydra could manipulate him so much to think such an awful thing. Steve knew that Bucky would never hurt him. No matter what.

"Stevie?" Bucky questioned, breaking into Steve's thoughts. Steve glanced back at his concerned boyfriend, realizing that Bucky was holding pressure to the back of his head. How could Hydra ever deceive Steve with those lies?

Affectionately gazing into Bucky's steel-blue eyes, Steve reassured, "I love you."

"I know," Bucky smirked. A blush was rising on the apples of his high cheekbones and he leaned forward to press a sweet kiss to Steve's forehead. The touch featherlight, Bucky kept his lips there as he confirmed, "I love you, too."

Steve mocked Bucky, "I know."

Pulling back, Bucky playfully narrowed his eyes at Steve, causing Steve to softly chuckle. Before anything else could be said or done, Sam returned with Nurse Janet. She crouched down to check Steve's injuries, and Steve wondered if anyone else noticed how difficult it was for Bucky to move back. Almost as though Bucky was fighting an internal war with what he wanted to do and what he should do.

All Steve could think was, _Hive better help whoever tries to turn us against each other._


	31. Thirty-One

**Thirty-One:**

"You sure about this?" Bucky asked, pulling up to Sharon's house.

It was dark, cold, and windy. Just like every other Halloween that Steve could remember. Hell, it had even snowed in between the hours of getting out of school and now. Which Bucky claimed to be just shitty. Especially for the trick or treaters that tried to have fun regardless.

"I'm sure," Steve reassured, opening the passenger door and sliding across the bench seat to climb out of the hand-me-down truck. Before he could exit the warm cab of the vehicle, Bucky grabbed onto Steve's wrist. Steve turned back around to face his boyfriend and quirked a brow, silently questioning him.

"The first sign of an asthma attack, we're leaving," Bucky bargained.

Steve narrowed his eyes as he assessed the handsome brunet. Sure, he's had more asthma attacks in the past week than he had in the past year. But Steve didn't want that to stop him from enjoying this last night of normalcy. Not sure what would happen after tonight, and not wanting to think about it. Just knowing that no matter what, it would never be the same after it.

Relaxing his expression, Steve agreed, "Fine."

Bucky held up his fist, extending his pinky towards Steve. Even though Steve wanted to scoff at the gesture, his heart urged him to make the promise. So, Steve linked his pinky with Bucky's and leaned in, pressing a sweet kiss to his boyfriend's addictive lips. Effectively sealing the deal.

Briefly deepening the kiss, Bucky licked into Steve's mouth before pulling back and nipping at his lower lip. When he pulled back, Steve let out a small whine of complaint, causing Bucky to softly chuckle. Bucky pressed another kiss to Steve's lips, and with their lips still pressed together, Bucky teased, "You sure you don't want to just head home?"

"I'm sure," Steve confirmed, "Most definitely don't want to head there. Want to spend as much time with you as possible."

"Yeah?" Bucky arrogantly questioned with a smug smirk tugging on his naturally red lips. Fondly pushing Steve's floppy blond hair off his face, Bucky sweetly, chastely kissed Steve once more. Pulling back, Bucky quickly stated, "Okay, let's go before I decide to drive us somewhere more private."

"Promise?" Steve seductively teased. His own cheeks burning brightly as he quickly climbed out of Bucky's truck.

Playfully, Steve ran up the porch steps. Of course, he should've known better than to try and outrun his boyfriend. Bucky had always been faster than Steve. Not entirely sure if it was because of Bucky's longer legs or because he had been on the track team. It didn't matter really. Bucky caught up to him, regardless. Like he always did.

Wrapping his arms around Steve's waist, Bucky lifted his petite beau into the air and chuckled, "You're lucky you're cute!"

"Is that right?" Steve laughed, his voice nearing a high pitch squeal as Bucky carried him across the porch.

"Yup," Bucky confirmed, nuzzling his face into Steve's neck. Pressing a kiss there and smiling when Steve shuddered. Bucky lowered his voice, "You have no idea."

A chill ran down Steve's spine and made Steve curl his toes in the slippers that he borrowed from Bubbe Ava. Turning his face, Steve warned through his teeth, "If you don't stop, you're gonna give me a boner."

"Promise?" Bucky gave Steve a shit-eating grin while wiggling his eyebrows and reluctantly setting Steve on his feet.

Once Steve regained his balance, he playfully swatted at his boyfriend. Who simply threw his head back to loudly chuckle as he wrapped Steve back up in his arms as they awkwardly headed through the house. Practically waddling as Bucky kept his feet on the outside of Steve's own, while Bucky's arms rested on Steve's shoulders as he covered Steve's own frame with his larger one like a second skin. Which was exactly how Steve wanted it to be for the rest of his life.

On their way to the kitchen to get a beverage, people enthusiastically greeted Bucky. Waving their arms to get the brunet's attention. Loudly calling out to him, hoping that Bucky would join them. It was just another reminder to Steve of how many people genuinely loved Bucky.

It was also another reminder of how few people were truly going to miss Steve once he was forced to leave.

"Buck," Gabe called out, gesturing for Bucky to join him over where a game of beer pong was being played. Although, Steve doubted that there was alcohol there. Sharon would never allow drinking in her house. Mainly because Sharon didn't want to have to clean up after the disasters that typically happened at parties where their classmates drank.

"Buck, c'mon," Tim beckoned with a wild arm wave that nearly knocked Jim completely over.

Shaking his head, Bucky waved him off and told his friends, "Maybe later."

As much as Steve didn't want to miss not even a single second with Bucky, he also didn't want to hold Bucky back. Especially with -- Steve shook his head. Instead of thinking about everything that the future held for them, Steve turned to look up at his loving boyfriend. Steve insisted, "Go on."

Bucky's brows furrowed as he studied the blond. Shaking his head, Bucky leaned forward and nuzzled into Steve's neck while he argued into his ear, "Nuh uh, you're stuck with me."

"You don't have to hang out with me all night," Steve informed with an eye roll.

"Did ya ever think that maybe I want to hang out with you because I genuinely want to?" Bucky questioned, holding on to Steve just a little tighter. More encompassing than he had been as he pressed a kiss to Steve's temple and reminded, "You're the one that I want to hang out with more than anyone else. You're my best friend."

Sometimes, Steve forgot that. Sure, they were dating now and had been dating for two years, but their relationship had evolved so naturally from friendship to boyfriends that Steve forgot that there was a time when they weren't like this. It all just seemed like a natural development. And sometimes, Steve forgot that for so long they had been only best friends. That they had spent most of their lives as only best friends.

Dating changed things though. Not much. Just enough that Steve no longer saw themselves as best friends. They were boyfriends. No, they were more than that. They were soulmates. Steve was sure of it. Steve had known it for a while now. And only then did Steve realize just how lucky he truly was.

Tilting his chin up, Steve's lips met Bucky's as they kissed. Right there in the middle of the hallway, blocking others who were either on their way to enter the kitchen or exit. Turning completely in Bucky's arms, Steve encouraged his handsome brunet beau in his attempts to deepen the kiss. Sliding his hands up Bucky's chest until he could tangle his fingers in the soft brown locks.

As the pair moved off to the side, to stop clogging the hallway, Bucky snaked his arms around Steve's waist. Holding Steve closer to his body until they were flushed together. Not letting the kiss get too heated, but still allowing it to melt the knot in Steve's stomach and cause warmth to pump through his veins.

Nothing could tear them apart.

Well, until a deep, familiar voice called out, "Steve!"


	32. Thirty-Two

**Thirty-Two:**

Reluctantly, Steve pulled back from Bucky's lips. Bucky kept his eyes closed and his hands on Steve's waist as he leaned forward to rest his forehead on Steve's. Steve, however, turned his head to look over at the person who interrupted them: Sam. _It's always Sam_.

Trying -- and failing -- to not think about the way Bucky's thumb rubbed at the exposed skin between his shirt and shorts, Steve greeted, "Hey, Sam."

A large smile was on Sam's face and he crowded close to them, so he wouldn't block any of the other party goers. Glancing from Bucky to Steve and back to Bucky again, Sam admitted, "I didn't think you'd show up."

Steve's brows furrowed as he turned his gaze from his friend to his boyfriend. Noting that Bucky's cheeks were flushed, Steve's furrow deepened and he quickly redirected his attention back to Sam. Curious, Steve questioned, "Why wouldn't we be here?"

"Assumed that after your asthma attacks this week, you wouldn't want to be around crowds," Sam easily explained with a shrug.

Not entirely sure if he believed the excuse, Steve narrowed his eyes as he studied the two taller boys. Suspiciously, Bucky purposely chose not to make eye contact with Steve. Of course, that didn't deter Steve from being a little shit and deliberately moving to make sure that he was in Bucky's eyeline. Crossing his arms, Steve quirked a brow up at his beau.

Bucky pressed his lips together and scrunched his face up a bit before finally locking eyes with Steve. And although Bucky had an excellent poker face, it always faltered around Steve. Sighing, Bucky rolled his eyes at himself and placed his hands on Steve's hips, pulling him in as he confessed, "I thought that you might want it to just be us tonight."

Steve's shoulders slightly sagged at that. Maybe he should've listened to Bucky and just spent the night with him. After all, Steve would be gone all weekend. And even then, Steve knew that it would feel like a whole lot longer.

Holding Bucky just a little closer, Steve tilted his head up to look at the handsome brunet. Wondering if it was too late to just leave the party and spend the rest of the night wrapped in his arms.

Of course, when Sharon decided to greet the pair by taking their hands and pulling them into the kitchen, how could they leave? Especially when Steve spotted the homemade birthday cake on the counter that had gone untouched until Steve arrived.

There was no turning back now.

With everyone crowding around, singing the Birthday Song, Steve smiled up at Bucky. Bucky being the loudest out of the bunch as he cheerfully celebrated the day his boyfriend was born. His arm slung around Steve's shoulders as he held the blond close and swayed them to the song.

Realizing that Steve was looking up at him, Bucky finally glanced down at him. A large, affectionate grin on Bucky's face as he leaned in close and pressed a kiss to Steve's temple. In Steve's ear, over the noise of the other party goers, Bucky declared, "Happy birthday, Stevie."

Trying to keep the tears from falling down his face, Steve blinked and looked down at the cake. The flames from the multicolored candles flickering. When everyone stopped singing, Sharon exclaimed, "Make a wish!"

Snapping his eyes up to Sharon, Steve was reminded of his family that morning. How he had turned and decided to ignore them. Now he wished that he had humored them. At least humored Uncle Thor and Hildy. But standing there, Steve couldn't help but feel like Uncle Loki should've been humored too. Whether he was angry with his family or not, he still loved them. And Steve knew that, although misguided, they loved him too.

All Steve wanted was for his life to continue the way that it had been. With his loving family, his supportive group of friends, and the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Steve didn't want to go off to Hydra Preparatory Academy. Steve didn't want to sign his life away in honor of Hive. Steve simply wanted more of this.

More of high school parties. More of silly costumes. More of cheesy horror films. More of Stevie-palooza. More of big ribbons in celebration of being born. More of Bucky's arm slung protectively and affectionately around his frail shoulders.

Taking in a deep breath, Steve closed his eyes and allowed all the good memories to fill his mind. All the smiles and comfort. All the love from his family, his friends, and from his partner. Wanting nothing more than to live in those memories like a cat soaking up the sun.

With his eyes still closed tightly and holding onto everything good in his life, Steve blew out the candles. Wishing with all his might that he could have more of _this_.


	33. Thirty-Three

**Thirty-Three:**

The rest of the party passed by in a blur. Sweaty bodies moving around in the designated dancing area in different costumes. Large, warm hands on Steve's hips. Singing along to the _Monster Mash_. Small giggles and belly laughs. Smiles and kisses.

All too soon though, Steve had to leave. The party was trickling outside by the time that Bucky exited the house behind him. Things were winding down as the party itself drew to an end, and Steve couldn't help but feel like it was a more permanent end.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the melancholy thoughts, Steve climbed into the passenger seat of Bucky's green Chevrolet Cheyenne. Bucky closed the door for him before heading around the front to climb in behind the wheel. Instantly taking Steve's hand in his and rubbing circles into the back of Steve's hand.

Once they started heading down the road into town, Bucky brought Steve's hand up to his mouth and pressed a sweet kiss to the back of Steve's hand. Steve smiled up at him and hoped that Bucky couldn't see the tears that were building in his eyes. Thankful that it was dark and that any reflection from the tears could be blamed on his glasses.

"I know it's just the weekend," Bucky started. Only pausing to clear his throat from the emotions building there, "But I'm sure gonna miss you, sweetheart."

"Sap," Steve good-humoredly scoffed, trying to will away the emotion building in his own throat.

Silently, Bucky winked in reply, causing Steve's heart to swell. With a content sigh, Steve relaxed into the seat. Trying to just enjoy the moment. Riding home in his boyfriend's hand-me-down truck with their hands intertwined. Taking in the way that Bucky's thumb soothingly rubbed into his skin as though he was reviving him with each pass of his thumb.

Although the knot in Steve's stomach was twisting further the closer they got to the Odinson home, Steve tried to push it out of his mind. Of course, it wasn't working considering Steve had spent the whole ride tensing the closer they got. Dreading what the weekend had in store for him. Knowing that even though it was only supposed to be an easy weekend to help Steve transition into his future life, he wouldn't be returning the same. Sure, he trusted that he wouldn't be tricked into or forced to undergo his terrigenesis. But Steve would be fooling himself if he didn't admit that this weekend would change him.

After all, Steve had heard many stories from his uncles' years at the academy in its infancy, and he had also heard about Hildy's experiences. The only one who seemed to enjoy their time there had been Loki, who had easily moved up the ranks to become Top Boy. By all accounts, Loki had been not only mischievous in the pranks that he pulled, but vicious and methodical in his studies. Easily following in the footsteps of the oldest Odinson, Hela.

"You okay?" Bucky asked, breaking through Steve's thoughts and causing him to realize that they were parked outside of his home.

Swallowing down the forming lump in his throat, Steve nodded and attempted to reassure, "Yeah."

"Pal," Bucky sighed and turned to face Steve, "When are ya gonna learn that ya can't lie to me?"

Gazing down at their linked hands, Steve weakly smirked, "Maybe a couple more years, I'll finally get it."

"Then, I guess I'll just have to keep remindin' ya, huh?" Bucky grinned, scooting along the bench seat while he loosened his grip on Steve's hand. Opting to cup his face instead.

Steve looked up at his beau, wishing to spend the rest of his life looking into those steel-blue eyes. Nuzzling into the contact, Steve closed his eyes. Not even bothering to fix his glasses when they dug uncomfortably into the side of his face. Simply soaking up all the love that Bucky readily, and easily, gave him.

"Stevie," Bucky softly started. Caressing Steve's cheek as he slid his hand down to tilt his face up. With Steve's attention, Bucky pressed a sweet kiss to his lips and comforted, "It's only a weekend."

"It's only a weekend," Steve quietly repeated, trying to will it true.

"We've gone longer," Bucky reminded, while tenderly stroking Steve's jaw, "Remember that one spring break where my family went down to visit my cousins in Florida?"

Steve nodded, but sighed before complaining, "But that was different."

"How?" Bucky chuckled at Steve's whining.

"Because we weren't dating then," Steve recalled, pouting his lower lip.

A grin stretched across Bucky's face as he playfully confessed, "You act like I still wasn't wrapped around your little finger."

Heat flamed in Steve's cheeks at that. Pressing his lips together, Steve dropped his gaze. Surprisingly enough, Steve didn't know that. Sure, it was obvious now that Bucky had reciprocated the feelings Steve had, but Steve didn't realize that they had been mutually crushing on each other for over a year prior to their first kiss.

Leaning in, Bucky kissed Steve's temple and teasingly whispered, "You love me."

"You love me, too," Steve automatically answered, his lips tugging up into a sincere smile.

"And I'll keep loving you," Bucky promised.


	34. Thirty-Four

**Thirty-Four:**

Once Bucky's truck was out of sight, Steve turned and finally opened the front door. Leaving the comfort of the large wrap around porch, for the familiarity of the entryway. His eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he was greeted by his already packed luggage.

"Meow," Tutti complained when she spotted Steve. Rubbing against Steve's bags, Nosferatu looked up at Steve and repeated, "Meow."

"I know," Steve agreed and sighed, crouching to run his hand along her naturally thin white fur, he quietly admitted, "I don't want to leave either."

Seemingly content, Tutti started up the grand staircase. Steve watched as her tiny body hopped up each step at a slower pace than Goose typically took the steps. A small smile tugged at his lips before he heard a throat clearing.

Snapping his attention to the doorway of the living room, Steve found Uncle Loki looking positively debonair in his slim black suit with his black hair slicked back. If Steve didn't know better, he'd assume that Loki was purposely trying to look good when he dropped him off at the academy. But Loki often went down the more fashionable route most days and events though. So, Steve couldn't assume too much.

Smoothing his hands over his slim black suit jacket, Loki coolly replied, "You better change. You don't want to show up looking like a fool. It would be unbecoming if the former High Priestess' son showed up in --" Loki gave Steve's costume a pointed look "-- _that_."

Glancing down his body at the sea shell bra over his long sleeve tee, practically hot-pants shorts, and tights. Swallowing thickly and pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, Steve agreed, "No, that wouldn't be good."

Loki's lips ticked up in a pleased grin as he nodded his head as he suggested, "Get to it."

Nodding, Steve headed up the grand staircase and tried to keep it together as best he could as he entered his bedroom. Not knowing what to wear. Judging by Loki's outfit, Steve would assume he'd have to wear something more formal. If he were to take a page out of Thor's typical every day wear of jeans and general layers, Steve would assume something more relaxed, but still fashionable. If Steve took after Hildy's average outfits, he'd be fine with leaving in what he was currently wearing.

With a frustrated sigh, Steve removed his costume. Still not entirely sure, but deciding to go with a soft, hand knitted sweater from Sam and a pair of nice jeans that Sharon always complimented him for wearing. If he had to leave his other life to make his family happy, he was going to go wearing things that reminded him of the people he loved. Now if only he had something of Bucky's, Steve would be all set.

Dressed, Steve just stood there staring into his closet for a moment. Not sure what to do. Logically, Steve knew that he should just head downstairs since his bags were all packed. But he wasn't ready to. Steve was fully aware that he was just stalling at this point, but he didn't care.

Longing for his uncles to change their minds. Well, for Loki to change his mind. Steve knew that if Thor made the decisions, Steve wouldn't have to leave. Steve should've made that his wish as he blew out the candles.

Just then, a sound of movement came from inside the closet. The movement causing the hanging clothes to swing. Assuming that it was just Goose messing around in there the way that he typically enjoyed to do, Steve rolled his eyes and parted the clothes in search of the flerken.

However, when Steve parted the hanging sweaters, he wasn't greeted by the orange tabby like he thought he would be. Instead, a slim oval face peeked out from the shadows. Ratty, hay-like, wispy blonde hair. Sunken, blue eyes with purple, bruise-like dark circles in stark contrast with their nearly translucent, white skin. Thin lips chapped as her mouth dropped open in a silent scream while her face twisted in agony.

Steve's eyes opened wide in his shock. Instantly recognizing the woman from Stark Orchards. Tears filled in her eyes and she glanced down at her protruding abdomen. And since she was looking down, Steve did too.

Blood stained the bottom half of her sweat-soaked yellowish-white nightgown. Her hands pressed to her frail frame, fingers stretched, smearing the blood. She needed help. She needed peace.

Steve's brows furrowed as he debated getting one of his family members. Perhaps they'd know what to do. Perhaps they'd be able to help this poor spirit and finally allow her to rest. This absolutely tortured soul --

"You keep making that face, it's going to stay that way," Hildy stated, breaking through Steve's thoughts and causing him to snap his attention from the spirit in his closet to his cousin. Who was nonchalantly leaning against the doorframe of his room.

Steve rolled his eyes and redirected his attention to his closet. The woman was gone. Not surprised, Steve sighed and muttered, "Only in this house."

Judging Steve's seemingly bad mood, Hildy assured, "The academy's not that bad."

"Yeah," Steve scoffed, running his hand through his floppy blond hair as he falsely agreed, "Sure."

"You just gotta make sure they know you're not someone to be messed with," Hildy advised with a smirk and a wink.

Although Steve wasn't against standing up to bullies, he was still aware of how he appeared. Steve also wasn't oblivious to how the other students practiced their abilities more than he did. If they wanted to harm him without putting their hands on him, they'd be able to. Essentially, Steve knew that he'd be defenseless against his new classmates.

"Hey," Hildy placed a comforting hand on Steve's shoulder, regaining his attention. Steve blinked a few times to clear his head, and Hildy reassured, "You'll be okay. You're stronger than you look, and I feel bad for anyone who even _thinks_ about messing with you."

Steve's shoulders slumped at that. As though a weight had shifted. Relaxed, Steve turned and wrapped his arms around Hildy's trim waist. With his face buried in her broad shoulder, Hildy wrapped her strong arms around his back.

Letting out a deep breath, Steve glanced over at the closet. No one was there, spirit or otherwise. Yet, Steve spotted a picture of a baby in the spot where she stood. A tiny, pale, frail baby wrapped in a black cloth. Much like the one Steve knew was buried deep in his closet somewhere with the other items of his childhood.


	35. Thirty-Five

**Thirty-Five:**

Considering it was only going to be for a weekend, Steve was amused by the way Uncle Thor was blubbering. On the car ride there, Thor's sniffles accompanied the soft crooning of Fleetwood Mac, as much as Loki's annoyed sighs did. All the while, Steve sat in the backseat of Loki's true pride and joy, the pristine 1963 Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud.

The closer they got to the school, the more Steve's anxiety grew. Each nervous shift along the tan leather seat earned Steve a glance from Loki in the rearview mirror. By the third time that happened, Steve made sure to keep his gaze out the window rather than the mirror.

Soon, Steve wasn't just looking out the window to avoid Uncle Loki's reflection though. Steve's eyes tried to take in as much as he could. Noting the 10 feet tall privacy brick wall that surrounded the academy's property as Loki pulled up to the entrance gate. Also noting the muscular, intimidating security guard who allowed their entry.

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to focus on the academy's grounds. In his mind, Steve had assumed that the Hydra Preparatory Academy grounds would be a nightmare. Envisioning brown, dead grass and bare, gnarled trees that whispered curses in whistling wind. Imagined a crumbling building that matched the haunted asylum of his nightmares. But Steve was far-off with what the grounds were actually like.

Instead of the terrifying visions that plagued Steve's mind, the academy's grounds were scenic. Beautiful, even. With manicured lawns of rolling hills with well-groomed hedges arranged in mazes and idyllic gardens with exotic flowers. Steve turned more in his seat as he looked over the impressive sculptures and enchanting fountains. Intrigued by all that he could see in the lamp-lights spotted along the grounds. Steve found himself anticipating what it would look like in the daylight, and he almost hated himself for doing so.

The impressive tree-lined drive finally approached the three-story main building, rounding around to the front entrance. Loki parked there, right outside of the sturdy wooden doors. Steve's heart stuttered when he caught sight of, not only High Priest Schmidt, but Headmaster Pierce too.

A chill ran down his crooked spine as he looked up the stairs to the two men waiting for him. The tension built in the air, causing Steve to feel as though all the air had been removed from his lungs. It was only stopped after Thor gave one last sniffle for good measure.

"Gather yourself, brother," Loki quietly sneered as he cut the engine and hastily climbed out of the Rolls-Royce.

Snapping back into the moment, Steve turned to face the front again. Trying to gather his bearings, Steve rapidly blinked his eyes. With a shaky hand, Steve reached up to open his door while Loki did the same with a much sturdier hand than Steve's.

Steve retracted his hand as the door opened and Loki gestured for Steve to climb out. For a fleeting moment, Steve felt like a sheep being led to slaughter. Wanting nothing more than to not think about that, Steve rushed out of the vehicle and met Thor around the back where he was unloading Steve's luggage. If Steve wasn't about to have a mental breakdown, he'd make a comment about how it was a bit much to have two suitcases for a single weekend.

It was only for a weekend. Right?

A little niggle at the back of his mind warned Steve to be cautious. That just because Schmidt agreed to let Steve postpone his terrigenesis didn't mean that he should let his guard down. Sure, Steve had never heard of anyone being forced into having their terrigenesis, but something in the back of Steve's mind told him to keep an eye out.

"Steven," Headmaster Pierce greeted with a stern expression on his face and his hands clasped tightly in front of himself.

A chill ran down his spine, but Steve didn't allow the shudder to break through him the way that he wanted to. Instead, Steve nodded in acknowledgement, "Headmaster, Herr."

"I expect this weekend to be enriching," Pierce commented. Although he didn't say it, Steve could hear the warning.

Swallowing down the forming lump in his throat, Steve couldn't answer. Couldn't say anything at all. Couldn't even think about what to say. All Steve could do was stand there, staring up at the imposing man. Headmaster Pierce's face was unnerving. A handsome man who had trained himself into using that as a shield in order to deceive others and get what he wanted.

"Shall we?" Schmidt announced, harshly clapping his hands to gain the group's attention.

Steve nodded and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. Realizing that this would be his first time away from home. Really away. Sure, realistically they were still just a phone call away. But Steve highly doubted that he'd be able to do so.

Thor made the first move. Wrapping Steve's petite frame up in an all-encompassing hug, Steve buried his face in his uncle's broad chest and listened as Thor quietly reassured, "I packed some protection charms for you."

In his silent thanks, Steve squeezed Thor's trim waist. Not wanting to seem too vulnerable, Steve pulled away much sooner than he normally did. By the look on Thor's face and the tears welling in his eyes, Steve knew that his uncle understood.

"You'll be fine," Loki insisted when he, in turn, pulled Steve in. Steve eased in his uncle's embrace and tried to believe the words when Loki, despite no way of knowing, guaranteed, "I'm sure that you'll cherish the academy as much as I did at your age."

With another sniffle coming from Thor, and one last comforting squeeze from Loki, Steve took a step back. After all, he didn't know who might be watching. Self-consciously, Steve glanced over his shoulder at the large gothic windows that added an elegant, albeit ominous, appeal to the academy. Not sure if it was his imagination or if someone actually was standing in the third-story window, Steve redirected his attention to his luggage.

Thor soothingly clapped his hand on Steve's frail shoulder as he confirmed, "We'll be back Sunday evening."

"Unless you wish to stay longer," Loki added, a hopeful lift to his lips as he grinned at his nephew.

"Brother," Thor lowly warned in a quiet tone that escaped both High Priest Schmidt and Headmaster Pierce as they attempted to entice and comfort Steve.

"We'll make Steven feel right at home," Headmaster Pierce's lips tilted up as though he was trying to smile. But it missed the mark as it came out looking more like a scowl.

Schmidt, on the other hand, was more than capable of grinning. Which somehow unnerved Steve even more than Pierce's attempt. These were the people Steve was being left with? These were the men who were meant to teach Steve how to be A Man of Hydra?

With waves goodbye, Thor and Loki climbed back into the burgundy 1963 Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud. Although it was night, and would be completely pitch black without the lamps dotted around the grounds, Steve swore that he saw Loki wipe a tear off his own cheek.


	36. Thirty-Six

**Thirty-Six:**

"For now, you'll just be adjusting and doing some light studying," Pierce stated, leading the way inside of the school.

Steve nodded, fixing the strap on his duffle bag. Not necessarily because the strap was sliding down, but because he wanted to glance back at Schmidt. Unnerved that Schmidt was half a step behind him and Pierce. Reminding Steve of a prisoner being taken to their cell. Which wasn't exactly what Steve wanted to think about.

Facing the front again, Steve realized that Pierce hadn't stopped talking, but Steve had stopped listening. Only seemingly catching the end of it, "…We want to make sure that you're caught up for next semester."

"For your future terrigenesis," Schmidt added, clapping his hand onto Steve's shoulder. Steve flinched at his stern grip and straightened his posture as best he could. Begging Alveus himself that Schmidt wouldn't be able to feel just how skittish Steve was.

Turning down a hallway, Steve caught the sign off to the side: _Gentlemen's Wing_. Steve worried his lower lip with his teeth. The further they headed down the hallway, the quieter the hall grew. Steve wasn't sure if it was his paranoia, but he couldn't help but feel like his new classmates were peeking out of their rooms to look at him. Of course, Steve wasn't going to look back to see if his suspicions were correct.

"Here we are," Pierce stated, stopping outside of a room. Giving the thick door a knock, Pierce only waited a brief moment before opening the door. Which gave Steve's heart a start. After all, he'd hate if someone unexpectedly walked into his room. Especially a nonfamily member who hadn't literally raised him from birth.

With the door open, Steve tried to stand taller. Wanting to appear more confident to his new roommates, Steve held his head high and shoulders back. Trying to take up as much space as he possibly could. Even though Steve was well aware he was significantly smaller than his new roommates.

Three pairs of eyes directed their attention to Steve, causing his throat to feel tight. It was one thing to expect one roommate. It was another to find three. Not to mention three muscular, intimidating boys who were all surveying Steve. Steve wasn't sure how, but he stood a little stronger, trying to seem as confident as he could.

"Boys, this is Steve," Pierce started introducing the four of them to each other. "Steve, this is Marcus --" the one on the top bunk to the right, the bottom bunk below him "-- Jack, and this is --" the one above the bunk that was going to be Steve's "-- Brock."

The three muscly brunets kept their gazes on Steve. Steve knew exactly what these boys were probably thinking: fresh meat.

Pierce and Schmidt must have realized that too because Schmidt ordered, "Now, boys, we expect you all to play nice."

"Of course, High Priest," the three boys answered.

A bit startled by the uniformity of the three brunets, Steve stumbled over his own, "Yes, Herr."

"Good," Pierce grimaced a grin and clapped Steve's frail shoulder. Steve was positive that the sound of the gruff gesture echoed in the quiet, but that was definitely just his imagination, right?

"We'll let you get acquainted," Schmidt added with a cold smile that chilled Steve right to his core.

Without anything else to be said, the two powerful men left. Just as simple as that. As though Steve was being left to be ripped apart by the lions. Feeling eyes on him, Steve took his gaze off the men walking back down the hallway they came. Finding that he was right about his future classmates watching him. As Pierce and Schmidt walked past certain rooms, the boys ducked back into their dorms instead of lingering in their doorways the way they had been.

Knowing that he couldn't stand there in the hallway like a frightened flerken, Steve carried his luggage inside of the room. Heading over to the empty bottom bunk on the left that he assumed was his, Steve set his suitcase and duffle bag down on the pristinely made bed. His heart was thundering in his chest as he started unpacking his items. Typically, Steve would assume that it was just his anxiety, but he knew that wasn't the case here.

Not wanting to take his eyes off his new roommates though, Steve glanced over his shoulder at them and feigned nonchalance. He meant to say something. To break the ice. To hopefully start off on the right foot. But Brock beat him to it with a muttered, "Half-breed," before shifting on his bunk and rolling over to face the wall. Noting that Brock wasn't the only one who actively shut Steve out as Marcus and Jack also rolled over to face the wall.

And just like that, Steve knew that this was going to be the longest weekend of his life.


	37. Thirty-Seven

**Thirty-Seven:**

It took exactly fifteen minutes for Steve to unpack his belongings and place them in his provided space. Even if the space wasn't the largest and made Steve glad that he was only going to be there for the weekend. He wasn't sure what he would've done if he had up and moved there full-time. Especially since his roommates seemed to want him there about as much as he wanted to be there.

Once everything was put away, Steve turned off the one dim lamp that had been left on just for him. Steve half-expected one of his new roommates to complain about the light. But none of the three boys had. Instead, they kept on ignoring him. Steve wanted to care about that, but he just didn't. He didn't want to be there and he didn't want to bond with these very muscular boys who looked like they could -- and would -- kick Steve's ass at the drop of a hat.

So, Steve gathered his pajamas and toiletries, and headed over to the ensuite. Happy that the room had its bathroom, even if he did have to share it with three other boys. At least it was better than having to share it with twelve other boys, the way that he had feared.

Closing and locking the door, Steve took a moment to lean against the door. Allowing himself a moment of vulnerability and to catch his breath. Taking in a deep breath, Steve closed his eyes and prayed that the tears would stay back. Also praying to not go into an asthma attack.

Standing in the bathroom, Steve knew that he shouldn't spend too long in there. But the more he warned himself and his anxieties spoke, Steve's lungs felt like they were going to collapse. Which was extremely inconvenient. After all, Steve needed to seem strong. Needed these boys to know not to mess with him. Follow Hildy's words of wisdom.

So, Steve pushed himself off the back of the sturdy wooden door, and quickly changed into his pajamas. Brushing his teeth next, Steve tried not to think. Choosing instead to just go through the motions until all of his business was taken care of and he was exiting into his dark room.

A bit more cautiously than Steve had been wanting to portray, Steve returned his items to their places and climbed into his bed. For a moment, he thought about getting his cellphone, but remembered that he had turned it in at the door. Something about health and recharging at night while the phone charged in one of the locked stations. Steve had to roll his eyes at that. He was supposed to be gaining more independence and becoming a positive member of society, he should be allowed to make those decisions for himself. Especially when he was expected to make such an important decision about his body and health as to follow through with something so sensitive as a terrigenesis.

Nevertheless, Steve placed his glasses on the desk between the bunks and sighed. Not nearly tired enough to fall asleep. His nerves were all a flitter and Steve knew that even if he did snooze, he'd probably wander. Sure, there was no way of knowing until he was asleep. But Steve could make an educated, accurate hypothesis.

Still, Steve closed his eyes and allowed his mind to go through as many happy memories that he could. Even ducking his nose into the collar of his sleep shirt that smelled of protection charms and home. Taking in a deep breath, Steve clung to the thought of home.

Even though Steve's anxiety was begging him to stay awake. To not let his guard down. The exhaustion became too much. And eventually, Steve --

Jerked. Harshly crashed on the hard dirt-covered ground and woke with a twitch. Not being able to see, Steve knew that he wasn't sleep wandering this time. Oh, no. This was not that.

In his blurry, nearly legally blind sight, Steve realized that he was in a damp, cold space. Not outside. It smelled too musty for that. No, he was in a room, that much was certain.

Squinting, Steve tried to make out as much of his surroundings as possible. Feeling a breeze to his back like a breath against his neck, Steve whipped around to face behind himself. Although Steve's eyesight was poor, he was able to make out three shadowy figures. No, not figures. Three people. Three boys with broad shoulders and --

"You think you're so special, don't you," Steve's new roommate, Brock sneered.

Attempting to appear unshaken, Steve surprised himself by how steady his voice was as he questioned, "Where am I?"

"The Hell-Beast's Cell," Brock answered, sounding sickly satisfied. Melodic as his gruff voice was, Steve still hated how he recounted the old myth, "It's said that this is where The Great Alveus was held way back in the beginning. When the foolish mortals planned to execute him for showing wondrous powers that their simple minds didn't -- couldn't -- understand.

"This is the very place where Hive the Terrible and Powerful, realized that he had been praying to a false god," Brock took a step into the cell. Although Steve couldn't make out much, he still tracked the boy as he glided across the room while he narrated, "Where he found the strength within as well as found the very thing that would set him free. What set us all free. The Terrigen Crystals."

A chill ran down Steve's crooked spine as he asked, "Why am I here?"

Brock crouched down, close to Steve and explained, "It's apparent to me -- and _everyone_ \-- that you are lacking faith. And those who lack faith come here."

"It's said that those who refuse Our True God go mad here," one of his other new roommates sneered.

"Some even slash their own throats in their madness," Brock snidely warned. Patronizingly, Brock slapped Steve's cheek. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough to sting, "We'll see you in the morning."

"As long as you don't lose your head," the other roommate taunted.

Brock scoffed at that and mocked, "Don't worry boys. He's an Odinson. The son of a High Priestess. He'd rather saw off his own head than confess that he's as dirty and faithless as his mortal father."


	38. Thirty-Eight

**Thirty-Eight:**

With the sound of the large door shutting and leaving Steve in complete and total dark silence. Not to mention blind. Steve shuddered as he thought about how this could be his future if he didn't sign his name in Hydra's book and didn't go through with his terrigenesis. After all, his body was already in poor shape. Of course, the natural progression would be for his body to get worse.

_Don't you want to be strong?_

_Don't you want to be healthy?_

_For Bucky?_

Steve's mind conjured up the perfect image of Bucky. The way the brunet looked during the summer with his skin tan, turning pink the longer he stayed in the sun. How his steel-blue eyes would sparkle like the lake water when the sun reflected on it like glass. It was some of Steve's favorite times with Bucky. The way Bucky would wrap his arms around Steve and toss him in the refreshing water before jumping in after and pulling Steve's shivering frame close, just to hold him.

Or winter Bucky in his cozy hand-knitted sweaters Bubbe Ava and Winifred made him. His cheeks rosy in the cool wind. Curls popping up in his tousled brown hair as it stuck to his head from his stocking hats. Holding hands and still feeling the warmth through the layers of thick mittens. Playfully forming snowballs and tossing them at each other. Bucky wrapping Steve up in his arms to warm him up after being out in the cold with a soft blanket and a large cup of hot cocoa.

Surprise kisses in the hallway in between classes. Holding the passenger door open for him in exchange for a kiss to the cheek. Hands together, fingers laced as Bucky drove them home. Forgotten homework and making out because Steve's uncles didn't make them leave the door open.

Bucky's body over his, crowding close. Kisses trailing up the column of his neck. Nipping at his earlobe. Whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Pressing their bodies together. Experiencing that form of love for the first time together. The way Bucky pushed Steve's hair away from his face with tender touches. Leaning in to kiss his forehead. Gentle eyes lovingly gazing into his. Both unspoken and spoken promises of forever.

The way Bucky's eyes burned with a protective fury whenever Steve decided to get involved with someone else's business and ended up with a broken nose. Or more likely, a black eye. Blood dripping from his nose or a busted lip and Bucky giving him ice to place on his swelling face. The attractive way that Bucky's jaw clenched as he tried not to lecture Steve for the umpteenth time about not getting into fights while he affectionately dressed Steve's wounds.

_Bucky deserves someone who can keep up with him._

_Bucky deserves someone who won't need to be taken care of._

_Bucky deserves better._

Nodding along, Steve couldn't help but agree. Bucky _did_ deserve someone strong. Someone healthy. Someone who kept up with him. Someone who could take care of himself. Someone who would never need Bucky to come clean up a mess that they made.

_Someone who could protect Bucky_.

Someone who could --

Steve paused. Why was he thinking about this? Sure, he knew that Bucky deserved better. But Steve had always thought that. Bucky was one of the best people that Steve had ever met, so of course, Steve thought that Bucky deserved the best. It was only natural for Steve to think that. But Steve also knew that he'd do his damnedest to be the best that he could be. Because Bucky deserved it.

_You can be what he deserves_.

Sitting up a little straighter, Steve glanced around the damp, dark cell. It was clear that those weren't his thoughts. Sure, he had had them on occasion. But this was… odd.

Although Steve couldn't see anything and he doubted that he'd be able to even if he had his glasses, Steve decided to move backwards. Figuring that if anything, he could protect his back. Be less vulnerable that way. If he was going to be there for a while until his new roommates decided to release him, he might as well make himself feel safer. Even if it was a false safety.

_Don't you want to reach your full potential?_

_Don't you want to be the best you?_

_For Bucky?_

Shaking his head, Steve hoped to shake the thoughts right out of his head. Which Steve knew was ridiculous. It never worked normally, so it wasn't a surprise that it didn't work then. Instead of just remaining the same as it was though, it decided to get worse.

"Wouldn't it feel so nice to be the man that you've always wanted to be?" A gravelly voice roughly whispered in his ear.

Steve's heart stuttered and his breath hitched. Not sure what was worse, having the thoughts slither into his mind or have the voice say them directly into his ear. So close that Steve could feel a breath on the back of his neck.

"Be the man that Bucky has always wanted you to be?" The deep melodic tone continued.

With dirt caked hands, Steve lifted his hands up to his head. Covering his ears with his unsanitary hands, Steve wanted nothing more than to make it all stop. Make it stop before it got worse. Because Steve knew that this was only the beginning. Knowing that it was bound to get worse because that was what The Hell-Beast's Cell was all about. The whole point of it. Exactly why Steve's new roommates put him there.

The Hell-Beast's Cell was meant to break him.

Realizing that and thinking about all the people who were broken here, Steve's lungs collapsed. Or at least, that's what it felt like as he suddenly found himself struggling for breath.

Grasping at his chest, his knuckles turned white as he twisted the material of his sleep shirt into his unclenching fist. There wasn't anything that Steve could do either. He was meant to break. He was meant to hand his unwavering faith and soul over to Alveus and become a Hive mind.

Or die.

It was clear now that Steve never really had a choice in any of this. Either he joined Hydra. Or he ceased to exist.

"Don't you want to be able to protect Bucky?"

_Don't you want to be able to protect Bucky?_

Still struggling to catch his breath, it felt like a hand was wrapped around his neck. The hand of Hydra restricting his airways. What if he decided he'd rather die? Would they just let him die? Would there be any repercussion? Did anyone know that he was there?

He should've kept his glasses on.

He should've carried his inhaler in his pajama pants pockets.

He should've ran away from home.

He should've.


	39. Thirty-Nine

**Thirty-Nine:**

"Breathe!" A raspy female voice demanded while a pressure pushed down on his chest. Air was forced into his mouth and the voice repeated, "Breathe!"

As though the hand had been removed from around his throat, Steve gasped. Another harsh pump to his chest, and Steve's body went lax. Completely out of it as his limp body laid in the dirt. Imagining the warm sun heating his skin. His body feeling the way that it typically did after a long day of swimming at the lake with Bucky. Or the way it did on a too hot and muggy day. Or on a snow day when Steve was wrapped up in an oversized hand-knitted sweater that still smelled like Bucky. Or --

Steve felt exhausted. Mind, body, and soul. Everything just felt heavy with his fatigue and his eyes started to slip closed.

"Hey," the girl stated, tapping his cheek with her fingers to gain his attention.

Groaning in his fatigue and frustration, Steve weakly attempted to push her away. Whether she saved his life or not, Steve didn't want to deal with it. All Steve wanted to do was sleep and dream of Bucky.

"Hey," she repeated, hitting his cheek a little more aggressively as she demanded, "Don't pass out on me. I need to make sure you're okay."

Pushing her away again, Steve hoarsely declared, "I'm fine."

"Oh, yeah?" She scoffed, "Then how come I had to save your ass?"

"No one asked you to," Steve gruffed, attempting to sit up.

Firmly, the girl placed her hand on his shoulder and forced him back down. She asked, "What were you thinking?"

"That my roommates would be nicer," Steve deadpanned as he allowed his eyes to close again. Not like he could see much anyway.

"I meant, why weren't you trying to escape?" She questioned with a sigh. Just meeting Steve and already tired of him.

_You'd be better off dead_.

Although Steve's eyes were closed, he could feel how tense the girl became beside him. Assuming that someone had joined them, Steve opened his eyes. Only, there wasn't anything that he could see. There was no one else that he could feel with them.

Sitting up, the girl didn't stop him then. The move though was the wrong one because his torso tensed. Gasping from the shock of pain, Steve grasped at his ribs. From beside him, the girl immediately helped him sit up. But she didn't stop there. She stood and brought him up with her.

As they stood there, Steve attempted to catch his breath. And perhaps it was the lack of oxygen or the fact that The Hell-Beast's Cell was coercing him into joining by cutting off his airflow. Whatever it was, Steve looked over at the petite girl who was holding his weight, and opened his big mouth wide enough to effectively shove both feet into his mouth, "You're short."

"And you might actually be brain-dead," she deadpanned and started heading towards the door to the cell.

"I'm Steve," he introduced himself as the girl helped him over to the open door.

Pausing before they exited the cell entirely, Steve watched her blurry figure more. Looking one way, then the other, she must have figured the coast was clear because she started dragging him down the hallway. As they entered into another door, she informed him, "Natasha."

"Well, Natasha," Steve started, easily smiling at the girl, at Natasha, "Thanks for saving my life."

"I wouldn't thank me just yet," Natasha breezily warned.

Steve cautiously pulled back to suspiciously gaze at his potentially new friend, even though he couldn't see her. He quirked a brow, "Why do you say that? You didn't perform CPR only to strangle me yourself, did ya?"

"No," Natasha chuckled. Sighing in her own fatigue, she leaned against the wall to the dark room they were currently hiding out in, "I'll have to return you to the cell once dawn comes around."

A chill shot down his spine and felt like his blood froze in his veins as he asked, "Why?"

"Because if I don't, they'll be even worse," Natasha informed, not soothing Steve in the slightest.

"Well," Steve swallowed the lump forming in his throat as he also leaned against the dirty brick wall -- realizing he was in another holding cell -- he repeated, "Thanks for saving my life."

For a moment, Natasha was quiet. Steve turned his head to look at her and could vaguely make out that she was watching him. Just as he was about to question her, she simply replied, "You're welcome."

Steve nodded and eased in himself. Deciding that he was too exhausted to remain standing, Steve slid down the wall and sat on the dirt floor. Pressing his hands to the cold, damp earth, Steve asked, "Why aren't there real floors in these?"

"More effective in the manipulation," Natasha clarified as she also moved to sit down beside Steve. "You'd be surprised with what people will agree to just so they can get out of here."

"Really makes ya wanna stay, huh," Steve mocked.

Although Steve wasn't expecting it, he was glad when Natasha good-humoredly scoffed. Just a small, light-hearted puff of a skeleton of a laugh. It was exactly what Steve needed and he was grateful for more than just for Natasha saving his life. He was grateful that the person who saved him had been Natasha.


	40. Forty

**Forty:**

Just as Natasha warned, Steve was returned to The Hell-Beast's Cell, much to his chagrin. Still not being able to see and terrified about what could influence him in there, Steve kept his back against the wall. Sitting on the dirt floor, Steve was positive that it was colder in there.

As Natasha pulled the heavy door closed and locked it the way that it had been, Steve brought his legs up. Hugging his knees to his chest, Steve hoped that his roommates wouldn't take long. However, his paranoia was reminding him that they could just leave him in there all day and no one would know. Especially since he wasn't expected in any classes until the next semester.

_Don't you want to be remembered?_

The same enticing voice from earlier slithered into his head. Planting a seed in the back of his brain, and causing him to doubt himself just a bit more. No one would care if he just sat in here and rotted. No one would even pause and think about him. No one --

_Not even Bucky_.

Not even Bucky, Steve agreed. Especially not Bucky, Steve added. Bucky would care the absolute least if something happened to Steve. Steve doubted that Bucky would even notice.

_He'd be better off with someone else_.

Better off, yes. Bucky could have anyone. What was he doing wasting his time with Steve? Who was Steve? A no one. No one important at all. A stain on his family tree. A half-breed. Nothing he did mattered. He was a sickly boy who would die a slow, painful death.

_Unless…_

Alveus could help him. Alveus stood for freedom and honor. For a better future. If Steve followed Hydra, joined Hive's army, _he_ could be better. Better than the sickly boy he was now. Finally be good enough for Bucky.

_No, you'd be better than Bucky._

_You'd_ deserve_ better._

"Holy Hive," one of Steve's roommates commented.

Not realizing until that moment that he was holding himself and rocking himself, Steve stopped. Snapping his head up from where it was buried in his knobby knees, Steve looked at the doorway where his three roommates stood. Still not able to see them, Steve narrowed his eyes regardless.

One of them entered the cell and crouched down in front of Steve. Mockingly, the boy -- clearly Brock -- asked, "Nice night?"

Steve's mind went to Natasha who had saved him when they left him for dead. He thought about the hours they spent talking about nothing, but enjoying each other's company. Or at least, Steve had. But he wanted to believe that Natasha had too. After all, she could've just left him there in that spare cell and came back to return him. But she didn't. She had stayed with him. She had made sure that he was breathing and that he was okay. And Steve hoped that he had made at least one friend at the academy.

"Hello," Brock scoffed, knocking his knuckles on Steve's forehead, "The Hell-Beast get to ya?"

Shaking his head, Steve pushed the boy's hand away from him. Even though Steve couldn't see the finer details of Brock, Steve could feel the way that Brock was glaring at him. And since Steve was never one to cower at a bully, he set his jaw and stared at Brock straight in his face. Steve would rather have Alveus devour his soul than let Brock think he was intimidated of him.

A few tense moments later, Brock sighed in his annoyance and stood up. Then, with absolutely no consideration to Steve's well-being, Brock grabbed Steve by the back of his neck and pulled him up. Taking in a sharp breath, Steve didn't have any other choice but to stand too. And Steve hated every move he took in order to stand as fully as he could with his crooked spine.

Brock kept his hand on the back of Steve's neck and crowded close to him. With his heart racing in his chest, Steve tried to remain as calm as possible. Clearly, these boys had no qualms of harming him, and Steve needed to play this safe. Even if that meant for Steve to harshly tilt his head up to blindly look up at the muscular brunet.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Brock's thick fingers dug uncomfortably into Steve's skin, but he didn't whimper like he wanted to. Steve didn't even wince. He just simply stood there, despising his new roommates and the academy as a whole.

While they stood there though, Steve longed even more for Bucky. Hoping, with every inch of his fiber, that Bucky would have a good day. Also, hoping that the rest of the weekend would fly by as quickly as possible.

With how everything was going though, Steve was sure that he wouldn't be so lucky. Even once Brock dropped his grip and left the cell with the other two boys following him. Steve was sure that this would be the longest weekend of his life. And as he blindly made his way out of The Hell-Beast's Cell, Steve momentarily wished that Alveus had just killed him after all.

_Bucky would be better off_.


	41. Forty-One

**Forty-One:**

"James Buchanan, get out of that bed," Winifred demanded, harshly slapping the side of Bucky's bed. Groggily, Bucky huffed and opened one eye to find his mom standing there with her hands on her hips, reminding him, "You promised Sharon that you'd help her clean out her Aunt Peggy's things, and I'll be damned if you sleep the day away."

"I'm awake," rubbing the sleep from his tired eyes, even though he was entirely too close to falling back asleep.

Even though Winifred didn't saying anything, Bucky knew that she was still there. Probably glaring at him as she seethed in her disappointment. To ease her, Bucky confirmed, "I'm going."

"You better be," Winifred huffed and finally exited his room.

Bucky knew that he only had himself to blame. For one, he shouldn't have spent all night thinking about Steve after spending Friday moping around because he wasn't there. Second of all, he shouldn't have spent all night looking through their cute photos on facebook. He especially shouldn't have done the third thing where he simply spent a solid three hours just sending Steve memes that Bucky thought he'd like, even though he knew that Steve wouldn't see them until the morning. Hoping that Steve would see them in the morning.

Realizing for the first time just how lonely he'd be if Steve decided he actually liked the art academy and decided to stay there. Steve had been such a huge part of his life that he didn't know what he'd do without him. Just knowing that the thought alone absolutely tore him apart. How much worse would it be if it came true?

_What if he found someone better?_

Shaking his head, Bucky pushed his comforter off his half-naked frame and climbed out of his bed. Sleepily stumbling about his room as he grabbed a discarded pair of jeans from the floor and pulled them on his legs. Then, he picked up a sweatshirt that Steve had borrowed when he was cold. Bringing the garment to his face, Bucky took in a deep breath, trying to see if any trace of Steve was still there.

And immediately felt weird for doing so.

Deciding to wear the sweatshirt regardless, Bucky was glad that it did smell like Steve. Sure, it was faint and really smelled more like the Odinson house in general, but it would remind Bucky of Steve. Not that he'd ever be able to forget. Bucky knew -- and took comfort in knowing -- that Steve would always be a part of him. The best part of him. The part that made Bucky want to be a better person. For Steve.

Heading over to the bathroom, Bucky passed the wall of vacation photos and only longed for Steve more. Instead of looking over the hanging pictures the way that he normally would, Bucky ducked his head and picked up his pace. Now was not the time to be distracted by how utterly, breathtakingly handsome Steve was.

However, once he reached the bathroom that he shared with Teddy, he found the door closed. Tossing his head back to curse the heavens for Teddy even still being in the house regardless to him graduating two years ago, Bucky let out an audible, frustrated sigh. Yes, Bucky loved his older brother. But that love only went so far when he was tired, running late, and missing Steve.

Lifting his hand, he knocked on the closed bathroom door and paused to listen. From inside the bathroom, Teddy called, "Just a minute."

"Can you _please_ hurry up," Bucky requested, practically whining.

A flush of the toilet and the sounds of the faucet alerted Bucky that Teddy was almost done. He took a step back as Teddy opened the door. Drying his hands on the festive autumn towel, Teddy looked over Bucky and asked, "Aren't you supposed to be gone?"

"Funny," Bucky deadpanned, squeezing by him as he entered the bathroom, "That's exactly what I thought when you decided to take time off before going to college."

"Funny," Teddy mocked, replacing the towel while Bucky started brushing his teeth. Closing the door behind him on his way out of the bathroom, Teddy paused and informed, "You better hurry up. We were supposed to be there over an hour ago."

Removing the toothbrush from his mouth, Bucky narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he asked around a mouthful of foam, "We?"

"Mom wants to make sure that her --" Exaggerating a higher pitch to impersonate Winifred's voice, Teddy quoted "-- 'Baby didn't make us all look meshuga.'"

"Of course," Bucky shook his head and finished brushing his teeth. Once done, he placed his toothbrush back in its place and joked, "The only one who's meshuga is mom."

Teddy gave one of his exuberant, full-body laughs where he threw his head back and grabbed onto the doorframe as tears sprouted at his eyes. Of all the things that Bucky admired about his older brother, this was probably his favorite. Teddy wasn't afraid to laugh at whatever he found funny. He also had no qualms about simply letting the giddiness out, no matter how small and unfunny the joke seemed to be, people could always count on Teddy to be the loudest.

Just as quick as the laughter came, it stopped and Teddy demanded, "Don't be a putz, and finish up."

Playfully rolling his eyes, Bucky closed the door while muttering, "Yeah, yeah. I'm almost done."

On the other side of the door, Teddy called, "If you were meeting up with Steve, you would've already been gone."

Bucky couldn't argue even if he wanted to. He was completely wrapped around Steve's long, thin finger, and he didn't mind. It was how it had always been and Bucky hoped with every ounce of his being that it was how it'd always be.


	42. Forty-Two

**Forty-Two:**

"'Bout time," Sharon greeted the Barnes' boys at the door. Briefly glaring before turning completely to head back upstairs.

Bucky entered first and Teddy closed the door behind them. Normally, they'd take their shoes off to be respectful the way that Winifred and George raised them. However, they weren't there to just hang out. Instead, they were going up to the attic to go through Aunt Peggy's items. With her passing a few years back, the family felt that it was an appropriate time to finally go through them.

Shedding their jackets, they hung them on the empty coat hooks and quickly followed Sharon up the staircase. Bucky had always found Sharon's house leaned more towards creepy than cozy. Lived-in was how most of the houses were described which was just a fancy word for old. And although Bucky wasn't sure if he believed in spirits and all that hocus pocus, he still always had a prickling at the back of his neck whenever he reached the second floor.

Back when Bucky was still figuring out his sexuality, he remembered hanging out with Sharon and mistaking the goosebumps and the way the hair stood on the back of his neck for attraction. Now, he knew better than that. Bucky knew that different energies could be felt. He was an empath, after all. Or, "in-tune," as Bubbe Ava liked to say. Whatever one wanted to call it, Bucky was an idiot to mix up anxiety with attraction.

With each step that took Bucky higher up into the Carter house, the more goosebumps rose on his skin. As he finally reached the second floor, a sinking feeling started in Bucky's stomach. The same feeling that Bucky got whenever Steve had an asthma attack. Or whenever Steve showed up with a black eye or busted lip because he couldn't mind his own business. Or when Uncle Loki told him that Steve was going to be transferring to a new school.

There, Bucky spotted the open attic door and how the ladder was pulled down. He wasn't sure if it was because the Carter's old house was drafty or if it was the shift in energy, but Bucky wished that he had kept his jacket on.

"Well, don't just stand there," Teddy teased, bumping his broad shoulder against Bucky's, slightly nudging Bucky closer to the attic.

Snapping out of his own thoughts and the darkness that started encroaching, Bucky followed Teddy up the rickety ladder. With each rung, the more the hair on the back of his neck stood. But there was no turning back now.

It was just a feeling. A bad feeling. But just a feeling. Lots of things gave off feelings and energies. It wasn't unusual. It was just a feeling. It wasn't like it was anything that could hurt him. A feeling couldn't reach out and touch him. A feeling couldn't harm him. Unless it was the pitted feeling he had with Steve not there. But that was different. This was different. This was just a feeling.

"Great Uncle Daniel was a stud," Sam stated from the other side of the attic.

"Tell me about it," Sharon sighed, wistfully.

As Bucky rounded the corner to join the other three teenagers, Teddy joked, "Hey Buck, you could learn a thing or two from Uncle Daniel."

"Yeah?" Bucky deadpanned, spotting the open trunk with the pictures and love letters. Carefully, Bucky picked up one of the old, withered letters. Holding it like the precious heirloom it was, Bucky read:

_You mucked up my life in the best way. I was happy. I was a fool. You were the only one who realized it, and I'll spend the rest of my life thanking you for it, sweetheart_.

Bucky couldn't help but smile at that. It reminded him of something that he'd say to Steve. Or rather something that Steve would say to him. Especially if he was feeling feisty. Which, admittedly, was one of the things that Bucky loved most about him.

More than aware by how often high school relationships didn't last, Bucky knew that he wanted Steve to be his forever. It's what he had always wanted. Even before he realized that he wanted to be Steve's boyfriend, Bucky wanted them to be a forever. It always just seemed so natural to --

A chill shot down Bucky's spine and felt as though all the air had been sucked from the room. Standing there rigid, Bucky's hand clenched into fists with his knuckles turning white. Not exactly sure if anyone else felt the intense and sudden shift in the air, but Bucky sure as hell did.

Feeling eyes watching him, Bucky hesitantly looked over his shoulder. There, Bucky found nothing but an antique wine cabinet. Warped, aged wood peeked out from a falling white sheet. Even though Bucky could objectively agree that it was a beautiful item of furniture with its brass ornamental handles on the doors and drawer, he felt uncomfortable even looking at it.

"James!" Teddy called, snapping Bucky out of his trance.

Turning to look away from the wine cabinet to look at his older brother, Bucky questioned, "What?"

Teddy quirked a brow, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Bucky confirmed and, realizing that he was still holding the letter, he placed it back in the box. Wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans, he hoped that he didn't ruin the letter. Still feeling eyes on him, Bucky looked up to find his brother still watching him. Rolling his eyes, Bucky reassured, "I'm okay."

For a moment, Teddy studied him. But Teddy's eyes weren't the ones that Bucky was concerned with. Right now, Bucky was too busy worrying about the unseen eyes boring into him from the wine cabinet.


	43. Forty-Three

**Forty-Three:**

"Okay," Sharon clapped her hands together to gain the group's attention. Her loose tee sticking to her where she was sweating as she announced, "Now the box!"

Bucky tensed and watched as Teddy crossed the attic to retrieve the one item that Bucky wanted to deal with the least. He had hoped that since it was off in the corner and that since it was such a beautiful item that it was an automatic, _Keep_. However, things rarely went the way that Bucky hoped. After all, Steve wasn't there beside him.

Cringing when Teddy didn't use care with the antique, Bucky scooted back in his spot in the loose circle while Teddy pulled the white sheet off the wooden box. It took a moment for Bucky to realize that the front of the wine cabinet was directly facing him. It took another moment for him to realize that his heart was racing.

"Um," Sharon evaluated the box. Running her hands along the smooth surface of the wood -- which gave Bucky goosebumps at that awful idea -- Sharon shrugged, "I guess, donate."

Bucky redirected his attention from the ominous item to the busy blonde. Knowing exactly what that meant: Bucky was going to have to transport it to Nine Realms Antiques, on Monday. And Bucky just didn't want to do that. Bucky didn't want it watching him the way that it was now.

So, Bucky asked, "You sure?"

"Yeah?" Sharon's brows furrowed as she looked over her shoulder at him, "Why? You don't think I should?"

"I don't know," Bucky slightly fumbled as he tried to keep his gaze off the cabinet and finding it extremely difficult for him to do so. Realizing that his company was watching him, Bucky easily fabricated, "It's a beautiful heirloom --" his mouth tasted like ash with that "-- maybe you should keep it."

Sharon studied the wine cabinet. Bucky's breath hitched when Sharon placed her hand on top of it. How could she casually touch it? Couldn't she feel the bad mojo radiating off of it like heat from a hot beverage? The evil was so palpable that it was almost choking Bucky in that attic. So much so that he wondered if he'd get by with opening another window.

"Nah," Sharon finally confirmed. Shrugging, she added, "But maybe there's something inside that's valuable?"

Bucky's whole being tensed. He knew that was a bad idea. There was absolutely nothing in there that Sharon should want. But before he could protest, Sharon tugged at the decorative handle.

Luckily for them all, the cabinet held tight, refusing to open. Bucky let out a deep breath of relief. Never did he know he could find such comfort in something sticking so much than he did in that moment. Running his hand through messy brown locks, Bucky allowed himself to slouch in his comfort. Until…

Trying to catch her breath from her struggles, Sharon placed her hands on her hips and requested, "Ted, help me out, yeah?"

"Why me?" Teddy asked.

"Because you're the cutest," Sharon teased, even though directly after she chanced a glance at Bucky to make sure that he wasn't going to say anything. But Bucky would never do that. He'd never intentionally betray a friend -- or anyone for that matter. It wasn't his confession, and it wasn't really any of his business if Sharon had had a crush on Teddy and only hung out with Bucky in the beginning in hopes of getting in good with his brother.

But to ease one of his closest friends, Bucky sent her a soothing wink. Sharon's shoulders visibly eased and Bucky's did too. Up until Teddy managed to open the cabinet.

Like the dark omen it was, the lights cut out in the attic. A wind bustled and billowed around them, flinging curtains and dust covered sheets around as it shot through the attic. It didn't take long for Bucky's chest to clench and for his breathing to pause.

"What," Sam paused, looking around the large, dark room, "The hell?"

"Hold on," Sharon sighed, annoyed. She crossed the space, easily maneuvering through the piles of _keep_, _trash_, and _donate_. When she returned, she hit her hand on the flashlight until it started working and she nodded, "Good."

Feeling a breath on the back of his neck, Bucky reached up and covered his skin. Turning to glance behind himself, he came face to wall, and shivered that there was no way for anyone to be behind him. Even though there were only four people in the house to begin with. It was clear that they weren't alone.

At least, it was for Bucky.

As Sharon crouched down to peruse the cabinet's contents, Bucky hurried to stop her. Nearly knocking the item over in his haste, Bucky grabbed Sharon's hand. With brows furrowed, Sharon looked over at Bucky. Before she could question though, Bucky warned, "I don't think this is a good idea."

"Oh, c'mon, Bu--"

Just then, an ear-piercing scream interrupted Sharon and cut through the tense air like a knife. The four teens crowded closer to each other. It just happened to also be around the cabinet. More than anything, Bucky wished that they weren't, while also wishing that Steve was there to ease his nerves.

"What the fuck was that?" Sam questioned, eyes wide and hands covering his ears, just the way they all covered their ears from the high-pitched inhuman noise.

And if Sam's hands were over his ears, who was grabbing onto Bucky's bicep?


	44. Forty-Four

**Forty-Four:**

Cautiously, Bucky moved his gaze from his frightened friends and brother to the dark mass wrapped around his arm. It didn't look entirely human, but Bucky could make out that it was a hand. For a moment, he thought he was just imagining it. But he knew his imagination wasn't as creative to make up something harshly squeezing at him. Wasn't creative enough to imagine it tugging at him, causing him to fall over.

"You okay?" Sam asked, reaching over to help Bucky up.

However, Bucky wasn't able to respond as he was flipped onto his stomach and was quickly dragged across the attic. Startled, Bucky attempted to fight back. But how could one fight something that one couldn't see? The attic was dark and the figure was darker.

Twisting in its grasp as he was pulled towards the other side of the room, Bucky saw the impression of the grip on his jeans. Curling up, Bucky attempted to pick at the grip, but couldn't get a purchase on anything. It was almost as though the air was doing this. A shadow.

Heart racing, Bucky flipped back onto his stomach the way that he had originally been and dug his fingernails into the old wood of the flooring. Scraping up the finish and getting splinters as he fought against the force.

"Buck!" Teddy yelled, rushing towards his younger brother.

Bucky thanked every deity listening as Teddy grabbed onto his wrists and harshly yanked on his extremities. Never being more proud of his older brother's former extracurricular school activities than he was in that moment as Teddy used his championship wrestling strength to their advantage as he tugged on Bucky. Even if he felt like his shoulders were going to dislocate. Realizing, as they crashed into boxes and antique furniture, that Teddy would do anything for him, and knowing that if it were reversed, he'd do anything for him.

The thing must have realized this as well as the air grew heavy around them. Covering the attic in a hazy cloud, but Teddy refused to let go. If anything, it made Teddy's grip tighten. Which was why it should've been predictable when a slash ripped Teddy's blue flannel shirt and tore through his skin.

As though static was building in the air, the situation escalated and items started flying across the room. A forgotten dresser from Sharon's childhood with butterflies that Steve painted toppled over, nearly crushing Sharon. The trunk of old letters pushed across the floor to trip Sam as he rushed across the floor to help.

Recovering quickly, Sam hopped up and made it over to Teddy and Bucky. Despite the gash in his knee, Sam made sure to grab ahold of Teddy's waist and pull him away from the entity. The give made Bucky's heart soar and he pleadingly encouraged, "Yes! Keep pulling!"

Fortunately for the trio, the force removed its grip from Bucky's leg and he dropped to the floor along with Teddy and Sam who each landed on their bums. As they caught their breath, Teddy grabbed Bucky's broad shoulder and asked, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Bucky panted, glad for the first time that day that Steve wasn't there. Knowing that if Steve was there it would be even worse. Especially with how petite his boyfriend was. There was no way that it wouldn't have pulled him right out the --

"Fuck," Sam gasped, head turned to the side, gaining Bucky and Teddy's attention. Teddy started looking over Sam's bleeding leg, while Bucky watched Sam's expression. More specifically, where his gaze was.

_And if things couldn't get worse…_

There, Sharon floated. Horizontally, Sharon hovered three feet above the floor as she choked for breath. Quickly, the boys stood and raced over to where Sharon was. Noticing that where she hovered was directly over the opened antique wine cabinet. The trio stared in horror as they tried to come up with a way to help their friend.

As Bucky looked at Sharon's throat, he could see the outline of fingers bulge from under her pale skin. Bucky never thought he'd see something like that in his life, and now he knew that he'd never un-see it. It was there and would always be burned on his retinas until the day he died, he was sure of it.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Teddy quietly admitted.

Making the first move, Sam took hold of her leg. However, as soon as he touched her jean clad calf, an anguish scream tore from her throat as her back arched unnaturally. Not wanting to cause their friend any discomfort when she was already seemingly in pain, Sam immediately dropped his hand as though he placed it on a hot burner.

Bucky's eyes flickered around to see if there was any way to help her. Then, he suggested, "What if we close it?"

"Close it?" Teddy questioned, abnormally pale in his queasiness while he swayed on his feet.

"Yeah," Bucky confirmed and gestured towards the wooden box, "The cabinet."

With a haziness in his eyes, Teddy redirected his attention from his younger brother to the antique piece of furniture that held the evil. He took in a deep breath like he was going to talk, and then vomited in front of himself, nearly getting it on his shoes in the process.

Trying to keep his own bile from rising, Bucky started for the cabinet, only to find that Sam was already fighting to close it. Kneeling beside the wooden box, Sam ignored his wounded leg as he pushed with all his might to close one side of the cabinet. Knowing that he couldn't just stand there, Bucky dropped down to his own knees and started pushing the other door.

Not caring how much of a sweat he worked up, just knowing that they needed to lock that _thing_ up before it caused more harm. Which, a quick glance around the room already showed the damage it already did. What with his brother bleeding and puking and his friend being strangled in the air.

Finally, the cabinet closed. Before Sharon could drop onto the item and hurt herself further, Sam pushed the furniture out of her way while Bucky moved to catch her as her suspended body limply fell. Once she was safe, Bucky set her onto the hardwood floor to make sure that she could breath, and so he could assist her if he needed to.

However, he was distracted by Teddy collapsing onto the hardwood floor beside them. Body unmoving, Bucky gestured for Sam to take over caring for Sharon and moved to his brother. Bucky's heart clenched in his chest as Teddy just laid there on the floor.

Blood flowed from an injury on his head and the slash on his arm, and Bucky tried to remember everything he learned from the first aid seminars he took. The only thing that came to his mind though was to remain calm. Which, of course, wasn't something that Bucky felt he could do, no matter how much he tried.

After checking Teddy's pulse and making sure that he was breathing, Bucky moved on to his open wounds. Only, they weren't open anymore. They weren't even scabbed over. They appeared as old scars. With furrowed brows, Bucky snapped his gaze to Teddy's face, finding that his brother was already watching him. And as Bucky's phone vibrated in his pocket, a chill shot down his spine.


	45. Forty-Five

**Forty-Five:**

Being too exhausted and terrified to move from his room, Steve sat on his bottom bunk with his knees to his chest. Steve assumed that Thursday night would've been the hardest, only to discover that Friday was just as bad, if not worst. Now with it being Saturday, Steve wasn't sure how much more of this hazing he could withstand. Especially since Brock mentioned that it was only the beginning. And perhaps Steve should've expected it, but that didn't mean that it didn't faze him.

Eyes wide and bloodshot from lack of sleep, Steve prayed to Alveus himself that he'd be able to go home soon. _Guess Brock won, since I'm praying_, Steve chastised himself. Running his hand through his hair, he longed to be back home with his family. Hive knows that Steve would bury himself in Loki's embrace and never let go if that meant he'd never have to return to this horrid school.

And a horrid school it was. Steve's roommates hated him. But they weren't the only ones. The other boys in the hall hated him too. And beyond that, Steve believed that the faculty wasn't fond of him either. None of them had checked on him. None of them had helped him as he blindly stumbled from one side of the campus to the other covered in sweat and caked with dirt from The Hell-Beast's Cell.

Holding himself tighter, Steve wondered if Uncle Loki would come get him if he --

A knock at the door caused Steve's heart to race and his breath to hitch. Not knowing who would be at his door, Steve stayed in his spot, wishing they'd leave him alone. After all, he'd chosen that spot and he didn't want to move unless he was being physically moved. And even then, he didn't want to move.

When the knocking finally stopped, Steve let out the breath that he had been holding and rested his forehead on his knobby knees. All Steve wanted was peace.

Peace, however, didn't seem likely as the doorknob started jiggling. Not much, just enough to alert Steve that someone was going to enter his room. Whether he wanted them to or not.

So, taking in a deep breath to settle his nerves, Steve climbed off his bed and crossed the room. Throwing the door open, Steve expected to find one of his roommates. Or one of the other boys who lived in the hall. Who he found instead was a petite redhead kneeling on the ground with two opened bobby pins in hand.

Shifting so she was sitting on her feet, she looked up at Steve with a smug smirk. With a furrowed brow, Steve pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and questioned, "What are you doing?"

"Thought you might want this," she replied in a raspy voice while holding out his cellphone.

Recognizing the voice but not trusting his own memory, Steve asked, "Natasha?"

"Yeah," Natasha confirmed and stood from her spot. Passing the phone to Steve, she pointedly looked around, "Who else?"

Shrugging, Steve accepted the phone and tucked it into his jeans, "Thanks. Why bobby pins? I mean, we're --"

"I prefer not to rely on them too much," Natasha clarified.

A knowing glint was in her eyes, causing Steve's brows to furrow. After all, he didn't know very many enhanced people who would rather pick a lock the mortal way rather than just teleport into the room or make the door open. Hugging himself, his suspicions only grew, "Wh--"

"Alveus," Natasha cursed under breath while shaking her head, "They sure did a number on you."

Self-consciously, Steve redirected his attention to his feet. Not sure what to say to that. Sure, Natasha had released him from the cell twice, but that didn't automatically mean that he should trust her. Even though she did return his cellphone…

"Just an observation," Natasha shrugged. She tucked her shoulder length red hair behind her ear and glanced down the entry end of the hallway.

Since Natasha looked, Steve did too. Out of his own paranoia, Steve leaned out of his room to see more. However, it did little to relieve him as new anxieties flared. _What if someone's on the other side? What if this is a trap? What if she's a distraction? What if_ \--

"Have you eaten?"

Blinking Steve ducked back into his doorway, and stared at Natasha. Wondering why she would ask him. Trying to see if there was something hidden beneath her calm exterior. Steve was sure that the only reason why Natasha was asking was because she was in cahoots with his roommates and the other students at the academy.

Natasha's eyebrow quirked in question, but she didn't try to regain his attention or call him out for his spiral. Instead, she took a step back from the doorway and gestured for Steve to join her in the hallway. When Steve hesitated, Natasha waved him over again, and stated, "We're going to the cafeteria. You need to eat. I was gonna head there after I dropped your phone off anyway. Might be nice to have someone to sit with me for once."

Worrying his lower lip with his teeth, his stomach betrayed him. A loud, obnoxious rumble came from his abdomen and he realized just how hungry he was from not eating at all the previous day. So, with his key tucked into his pocket, Steve closed the door behind himself and fell into step beside Natasha. Glad to find Natasha smiling at him, and not fighting his own grin. Allowing himself to hope that maybe they could be friends.


	46. Forty-Six

**Forty-Six:**

The moment Natasha and Steve reached the full cafeteria, Steve knew that it was a mistake. Especially when seemingly everyone stopped their conversations to look over at them. Steve's stomach rumbled from hunger again, and he wished that he was as confident as Natasha was.

From beside him, Natasha held her head high and her shoulders back. In that moment, Steve felt even more self-conscious. Typically, he was the one exuding confidence as he tried to puff himself up more, so he didn't seem so small. He supposed that if he was back home where no one really messed with him or risked his life, he would feel better in his skin. Except he wasn't home, his life had been risked, and he felt like his skin was crawling.

Thinking of home reminded Steve of Bucky. Feeling shitty about leaving Bucky on his own, he pulled out his phone and found that there were numerous notifications from him. Feeling even worse about ignoring Bucky for the past two days -- give or take a few hours -- Steve immediately started looking over all the stupid memes. And stupid, they were. But if Bucky didn't send him a Dark Kermit meme about stealing a fluffy dog at -- tugging at the screen to the side to check the time -- four in the morning, then he wouldn't be the boy Steve fell in love with.

"C'mon," Natasha encouraged and led the way over to the queue. Like a lost puppy, Steve stumbled over his feet in his attempt to catch up. Natasha noticed and slowed her pace while not commenting about Steve's clumsiness.

As they took their place at the back, Steve hoped that no one else would join them. He didn't particularly feel like being sandwiched between strangers who probably hated him. It was bad enough to be known as High Priestess Odinson's son. Then to sprinkle in that his father was a mortal and that their marriage -- and his birth -- was something forbidden that could get someone of less stature excommunicated, it sure made everything worse. Not to mention how he was seen as faithless since he didn't go through with his transformative sixteenth…

"It's not the best food," Natasha started, easily gaining Steve's attention. Comically scrunching his face, she continued, "But it's definitely better than the food that you're probably used to at the mortal school."

A small smile stretched at Steve's lips as he quietly admitted, "I haven't eaten the school's food for years. My uncle makes my lunches for me."

"See," Natasha nodded a confirmation. She tucked her hair behind her ear and grabbed a tray for Steve and then herself. As she started sliding the trays along the counter, she questioned, "Any allergies? Vegetarian? Anything?"

_Kosher_ was on the tip of his tongue, but Steve knew better than to say that. Sure, Steve had witnessed just how progressive Hydra had become. Hela being a High Priestess and there being diversity among the enhanced was a testament to that. But Steve wasn't stupid enough to believe that they'd be totally cool with it. Instead, Steve simply shook his head and watched as Natasha grabbed two plates that looked like a picture out of a magazine for the perfect smoked beef tenderloin, garlic potatoes, and sautéed Brussels sprouts.

As if confirming how delicious it looked and smelled, Steve's stomach let out a loud rumble, causing a smirk to tease at Natasha's lips. With the plates secured on the trays, Natasha slid them down the counter to grab beverages and a slice of cinnamon apple crumb cake for each of them. Instantly winning The Best Person at the Academy Award in Steve's heart.

Once she was done, she followed the way out of the line and carried both full trays as she led Steve over to an empty table. For a moment, Steve attempted to take one of the trays from her, but only for a moment. Steve was quickly realizing that Natasha wasn't one to second guess. If she knew that she could carry both trays, than she most definitely could.

Setting the trays down, Natasha pulled out the chair and gestured for Steve to sit. Not used to anyone pulling out his chair -- except for Bucky those three times in the beginning of their relationship before Steve snapped that he shouldn't be treated differently just because they were dating -- Steve awkwardly stood there for a moment. Natasha quirked a brow, silently challenging Steve, and Steve really didn't want to lose the only friend he made.

Tense, Steve sat down ramrod straight in the sturdy chair. Before Steve could think about relaxing in the unexpectedly comfortable chair, Steve blurted, "I have a boyfriend."

Natasha stood there for a moment, her brows furrowed while Steve debated whether he should take himself back to The Hell-Beast's Cell. After what felt like a long, sleepless night with Hive breathing on his neck, a slow smirk tugged at Natasha's lips and Steve let out the breath he was holding. As she slid into the seat beside Steve, she questioned, "Okay?"

"I just, um," Steve eloquently started, but paused. Steve couldn't believe that he said that. One look at Natasha and Steve knew that she was so far out of his league that she was on another planet. Feeling absolutely moronic, Steve focused on fixing his glasses before he continued, "Just thought I'd tell you."

"Steve?" Natasha asked, waiting for Steve's attention. Once she had it, she calmly replied, "Eat your food."

Sighing in relief, Steve unrolled the silverware and laid the cloth -- _cloth???_ \-- napkin in his lap. Immediately digging into the meal, an indecent moan almost slipped from his lips. Natasha was right about the food being good. And in his near-starvation, Steve was willing to say it was better than Thor's cooking. Not that he'd actually tell his uncle that though.

"So, were you going to ask me if I have a boyfriend, or…?" Natasha started, not looking over at Steve. But smirking when Steve looked over at her with his jaw slack.

Blinking, Steve blushed and snapped his jaw closed. Reaching for his glass of water, he took large swallows and cleared his throat as he set it back down on the table. Turning a bit in his seat his brows furrowed as Steve asked, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Mockingly, Natasha touched her chest and feigned shock as she joked, "Why, Steve, are you _flirting_ with me?"

Playfully rolling his eyes, Steve good-humoredly scoffed, "Ha, ha, let's make fun of the new kid that everyone hates."

A genuine smile crossed Natasha's face then as she confessed, "Not everyone."

And Steve could only smile back at her. Already feeling tears building in his eyes and finding comfort that Natasha wasn't going to taunt him about it. Instead, he dug back into his food, hoping that it would give him enough strength to make it through the night for whatever hell his roommates planned to put him through.


	47. Forty-Seven

**Forty-Seven:**

And hell it was.

A bucket of cold water was dumped on Steve's body, causing him to gasp awake. Shivering, Steve realized that, despite his best efforts, he had fallen asleep. Blinking himself awake, Steve looked up at his roommates who were smiling down at Steve as though he was prey. And at Hydra Preparatory Academy, he was.

Swallowing down the forming lump in his throat, Steve attempted to sound strong as he bargained, "You don't have to do this."

"Oh, but we do," Brock argued, ducking under his bed to grab at Steve and pull him off his bunk.

As though they were well choreographed, Marcus and Jack easily worked at getting ahold of Steve too. As Steve struggled in their grasps to get out of their grasps, he questioned, "Why? Wasn't two nights in The Hell-Beast's Cell enough?"

Brock gleefully chuckled, "You're not going to the cell tonight."

Momentarily pausing in his movement, Steve asked, "I'm not?"

"Nope," Brock playfully enunciated, popping his lips on the P.

However, that didn't ease Steve's fear. Instead, it made it worse. Immediately, Steve's heart stuttered as he realized that tonight was going to be worse. It was going to be so much worse. And Steve didn't know how it could get worse. And he didn't particularly want to find out.

With the building of his anxieties, the faster Steve's heart thrummed in his chest. So fast in fact, that Steve was afraid that it was going to burst right out of his chest. While the fear vibrated under his skin, Steve started tugging at his limbs in hopes of getting out of their grip. Yet, their grips remained strong, tightening the more that Steve struggled.

"Fuck," Marcus cursed when he lost his grasp entirely.

Steve used that to his advantage as he took his now free hand, clenched it into a fist and immediately swung it at the tall, muscular brunet. Relieved when his fist actually connected, Steve hit him again, causing blood to gush from his roommate's nose.

Due to Marcus's nose possibly being broken, he let go of Steve entirely to clutch his nose. That was all Steve really needed as the other two brunets lost their balance. Using that, Steve kicked out of Brock's grip and made sure to kick Brock in his prominent jaw, while also punching Jack in the eye.

"What the fuck?" Brock practically growled in his anger as he turned around to grab Steve again.

Heart racing and blood pumping harshly in veins, Steve steadied himself. Knowing that he'd never win if he ran away, Steve stood, ready for a fight. Even if he knew he'd lose, Steve knew it was his best chance. After all, it worked pretty well with the mortals.

Brock rounded on him with a fury that Steve had never witnessed before and he held his fists up higher, ready. Steve's body shivered from his wet sleep shirt sticking to his slender frame and the air in the room being chilly. But now was not the time to try and warm himself up. After all, the adrenaline was bound to warm him up soon enough.

"You think you're hot shit, huh," Brock sneered as he got in Steve's space.

"Just trying to make it through the night," Steve replied, starting to feel the electricity build inside of him.

Usually, Steve refused to use his powers, but now was not a typical fight. Steve knew that Brock was going to kill him. Either directly or indirectly, Steve could feel it all the way to the marrow of his bones that Brock had no intentions of going easy on Steve. That none of his new roommates intended to let Steve walk out of wherever they were taking him.

"Guess you're shit out of luck," Brock cemented and swung his fist.

Before the punch could connect with the side of Steve's skull, Steve closed his eyes and allowed the energy radiating through him to push outward to stop the hit from connecting. But just because Steve blocked Brock's fist from hitting his body didn't mean that Steve didn't feel it. For Steve, it wasn't as hard as a fist against his temple. Instead, it reminded Steve of being whacked by a fluffy pillow at the Barnes' home. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to nearly knock him over.

Opening his eyes, Steve wasn't sure what he was expecting to see. But it definitely wasn't the fury burning in Brock's eyes. Brock clenched his jaw and snidely assumed, "So, that's the way you want to do this."

"No," Steve shook his head as he watched Brock take a step back. Steve tried to reason, "We don't have to do this at all."

“Too late,” Brock scoffed, sending a chill down Steve’s spine.

Then, before he knew what was coming, a force pushed Steve back so aggressively that he landed flat on his back. Having his breath knocked out of him, he laid there for a moment trying to regain it. Brock was already moving on to his next move before Steve could even figure out what was going on.

Harshly, another bodiless force lifted Steve in the air. Holding Steve there for a moment before pummeling Steve into the solid floor. Briefly, Steve wished that he was back in the cell. At least there the dirt floor was more cushioning than the marble tile.


	48. Forty-Eight

**Forty-Eight:**

As Steve was lifted again, the voice questioned directly into his ear, “You are the son of Hela, High Priestess, are you really going to allow him to disrespect you this way? Who is _he_? A nobody!”

Being shoved back into the floor by multiple invisible energies now, the marble cracked beneath Steve’s petite frame. Although he hated even thinking about agreeing with their God, Steve knew he had to do something. Especially when he felt blood starting to wet the back of his hair and to trickle out of his ears.

Panting, Steve forced himself to sit up. Attempting not to groan out in pain, Steve kept moving. Knobby knees popping all the way until he stood, Steve leaned over. Hands on his thighs, Steve hoped that the bile wouldn't rise up. Looking up, Steve watched as his roommates started making their way back towards him.

"Ya gotta be kidding me," Steve sighed to himself.

Despite the pain and the audible sounds from standing upright, Steve steadied himself again and braced himself for the next round. For a moment, Steve wished that Bucky was there. But only for a moment. Steve realized all too harshly just how Bucky was always jumping in to save him at the last second, and how he didn't deserve Bucky at all.

"With what we have planned, you're gonna wish that we had just killed you," Brock smirked, causing Steve's stomach to twist uncomfortably.

Shaking out his stiff hands, Steve scoffed and falsely taunted, "Ya know, I'm starting to think that you're all talk."

"You're gonna wish that I was all talk," Brock heatedly warned.

"_You're gonna wish that I was_ \--" Steve childishly mocked and blew a raspberry into the air, in Brock's direction. Still out of breath, Steve rested his hands on his hips, "Alveus, do you hear yourself? You sound like a discount knockoff of a John Hughes' bully."

Brock clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth. Although Steve was already in for a whole world of hurt, he couldn't stop himself. If Bucky was there, he'd remind Steve to tone it down. But Bucky wasn't there, and Steve wanted to at least get his ass kicked for a reason that wasn't related to his family tree.

While Brock started for Steve, he bitterly spit, "You think you're hot shit, huh? Real hot shit because of your family. You know that you're a joke here. You don't belong. The only reason you're here is because your uncle is fucking the High Priest. And the High Priest wants to keep all of you under his thumb before you ruin his plans."

Steve's brows furrowed. _Which uncle? Loki? Plans? What plans?_ Confused and needing more information, Steve was briefly taken off guard as Brock barreled right into him, knocking him into the ground. Climbing on top of Steve, Brock straddled him and immediately started punching him.

Of course, Steve fought and fended Brock off. But only as well as a 90 pound blind asthmatic could. Thankfully, Steve wasn't an ordinary boy. As Brock broke his nose, Steve's will snapped like a rubber band stretched too tight. Steve's power pushed outward without Steve's control, causing Brock to fly off of him and be pressed against the high vaulted ceiling.

Not just Brock though as Marcus and Jack were flung back and being held against the wall. Dizzy and wobbly, Steve sat up. Blood dripped down from his broken nose, and Steve reached up to set his nose. It wasn't the first time he'd had to do so, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

With his roommates being held back by his powers, Steve allowed himself a moment to catch his breath. On the outer ring of his senses Steve could feel his roommates struggling against the hold. Not that Steve particularly cared. The pain spreading throughout his whole body was more important than whether his asshole roommates were uncomfortable.

Until, of course, a deep voice rumbled from behind him, "What in Hive's name is going on here?!"

_Shit_, Steve internally groaned and glanced over his shoulder to confirm that Headmaster Pierce was standing in the doorway. In pain, Steve fought through it to stand and face him. Knowing full well that he was in trouble. Even if his roommates had started it and was planning on killing him, Steve knew that the blame was on his shoulders.

"Sir," Steve addressed, hoping that if he went for courteous, he wouldn't get into too much trouble. After all, he had been acting in self-defense. Surely, the fact that he was drenched in water, his own sweat, and his own blood would be enough proof.

"Put them down," Pierce demanded. There was a fire burning in the headmaster's eyes and he ordered, "Then, come to my office."

Watching Headmaster Pierce exit the dining hall where they were, Steve realized, Steve deflated a bit. All he had to do was go to the school, behave, and survive. That was all he had to do. And Steve was sure that he wouldn't have had any issues if it wasn't for his roommates.

With another sigh, Steve manipulated his powers to fit them back inside where they would remain dormant, and let the three brunets go. Not caring if they hurt themselves, but figuring that they would catch themselves. Instead, Steve mustered up enough of his strength to leave the room to head down to the Headmaster's office.

_Just perfect_.


	49. Forty-Nine

**Forty-Nine:**

"We have already granted Steven numerous special privileges that others haven't been rewarded, and I refuse to standby for _this_ type of behavior," Steve could hear Headmaster Pierce scold Uncle Thor and Uncle Loki.

Steve sat in the hall, still a mess. The bleeding had ceased, but he doubted that he looked decent. Especially when Thor and Loki both rushed to him, worried once they arrived at the academy and saw the horror of Steve's night. Sure, Steve had been allowed to clean up a bit with changing out of his stained and ruined pajamas, but there was no way to hide the already present bruises.

Now, Steve was sat in an uncomfortable chair outside of the Headmaster's office. Made to listen to the jackass yell at his uncles about something that they didn't do. About something that wasn't even Steve's fault. It was in self-defense. Surely, that should've counted. Surely, his roommates deserved to be in this position for the hazing that they were putting Steve through. Not Steve.

"Alexander, I'm sure that Steve has a good reason for --"

"Your nephew expects special treatment," Pierce interrupted Thor. A thud came from the office, almost as though Pierce had hit his hand on his desk for emphasis. Steve wasn't even in the same room and he winced, he couldn't imagine how it was inside. "We will not be made a mockery due to lack of parenting and preparation."

Anger flared inside of Steve at that. Despite Steve being upset with Loki's recent actions, Loki and Thor were good guardians. The best that Steve could've ever asked for. They taught him everything that he knew and encouraged him to fight for what was right. To hear them being insulted with such lies made Steve's blood burn hotly in his veins.

Clenching his hands into tight fists against his thighs, Steve used all of his strength to refrain from charging into the office and defending his uncles. Steve may have been stupid, but he wasn't that stupid. Knowing that he would be lucky if he was expelled right on the spot. Of course, Steve wouldn't be too heartbroken over the decision. But he also knew that if he barged in there, he would have a higher chance of getting himself -- and his whole family -- excommunicated. And Steve refused to be _that_ selfish.

"I'm sure that if you have that much of an issue with our nephew, we can contact the High Priest and have him weigh in with his opinion," Loki threatened.

A chill ran down Steve's spine. As he shuddered, Steve thought back to what Brock had said. That Loki was having a secret sexcapade with Schmidt. Was it true? How could Steve not know about this? Did Thor know? Was that the only reason why Schmidt made a home visit? Because it was specifically Loki who had asked? And not because of the Odinson family legacy?

Steve shook his head, he didn't want to think about any of that. If he was going to think about someone having sex, he'd rather think about himself and his gorgeous boyfriend. Not that he particularly wanted to think of that in that exact moment either though.

"I think he should do his studies when he's not here," Pierce finally decided. Which, admittedly, was a letdown to Steve.

Thor cleared his throat, and a bit hesitantly debated, "The High Priest has already agreed that -- for the time being -- he'll only have to be here during the weekends."

"Although I think that Steven would benefit greatly by being here full-time," Headmaster Pierce started and paused. Steve leaned over the edge of the wooden chair to peek through the window of the office door to watch Pierce walk around his desk. Leaning against it, he crossed his ankles and held his hands in front of himself as he continued, "I won't go against the High Priest's decision. Instead, I'm going to suggest that Steven do his studies on the week days until he is caught up with the rest of his class."

Pierce looked away from Steve's uncles and through the window to lock gaze with Steve. Quickly, Steve moved back so he was sitting upright again. His heart racing as he waited to hear what else the three men had to say.

When Thor and Loki came up with no argument, Pierce must have detected a hesitancy as he used his authority to challenge, "Unless you think it'll be too much paired with his mortal school work."

Holding his breath, Steve waited until Loki assured, "Steve is an intelligent boy, we're sure he'll be able to handle it."

"Good," Pierce confirmed, even though Steve could sense his displeasure in it. It was clear that Pierce wanted Steve gone and had been hoping that his uncles would protest more. Half of Steve wished that they had.

Clapping his hands to regain the room's attention, Pierce announced, "I think that it'd be best to just take Steven home tonight. Hopefully next weekend will go better."

"Of course," Loki agreed.

Movement could be heard and Steve wrung his hands in his lap. Anticipating the three men, Steve was more nervous than he probably should've been. After all, how were his uncles really feeling about the activities of the night?

"Thank you, headmaster," Loki stated, shaking Pierce's hand once they were in the hallway.

"Let's hope this doesn't happen again," Pierce stated, quirking a brow in Steve's direction.

Steve shrunk down in his seat. Wanting nothing more than to melt into the floor instead of deal with this. His roommates should've been there, not him. Yet, there he was.

Thor waved for Steve to stand and Loki placed his hand on the back of Steve's thin neck, "We'll make sure that it doesn't."

Even though Loki had never harmed Steve in any way, he still managed to stiffen in fear that Loki might. Immediately, Loki soothingly stroked the back of his neck until he hit a bruise and Steve winced in his pain. The look on Loki's face said it all.

With his jaw tight, Loki asked, "Are we allowed to gather his items now?"

"Of course," Pierce agreed leading way to the boy's hall.

On the way, Steve spotted Natasha peeking out from the girl's hall. Her brows were furrowed, but it seemed as though she could understand. Steve raised a hand and gave a small wave her way. Thankful for how Natasha returned the gesture. Sure, the weekend had been shittier and short than Steve had expected, but at least one good thing came out of it: a friend.


	50. Fifty

**Fifty:**

Hours after the Barnes boys returned home, Bucky couldn’t stop shaking. Not just his hands either. Bucky's whole body was shivering and shaking as though he was cold, but he wasn't. If anything, Bucky was running hot. The way he did when he had a fever.

Trying to be as logical as ever, Bucky had tested his temperature. Unfortunately, that came back as normal. So, he decided that since he was shaking and chilly, Bucky bundled up. Pulling on another sweater and the robe Bubbe got him for Hanukkah, Bucky hoped that he'd either warm up or distract himself enough to ignore the shivering.

And maybe Bucky could ignore feeling cold, but he couldn't ignore the fear that still lingered in him. The fear that simmered deep within him that threatened to bubble over. The thing was, Bucky wasn't even sure what had happened. Or how to explain it.

As easy and as simple as breathing, Bucky reached for his phone. Knowing that Steve would have some words of wisdom. If Steve even believed him to begin with. But of course, Steve would. And even if he didn't, at least Steve would be there. Only… Steve wasn't home.

Not sure what to do now, Bucky simply sat there for a moment. Confused on what happened in the Carters’ attic. It _had_ happened, right? It had to have. After all, it'd be pretty difficult to hallucinate being dragged off by some unseen _thing_. Maybe if Bucky had been by himself, he could pass it off as some nightmare. But he hadn't been by himself.

Sure, it would've been better if he could push it off as just a dream. And Bucky supposed that it probably would've been better if his friends and brother hadn't experienced it. But he'd be lying if he claimed not to be at least a little comforted that he wasn't alone. Of course, that didn't stop him from being frightened by the entity that had attacked them.

It also didn't stop him from wondering what Great Aunt Peggy had been doing with something so evil in the first place. Although Bucky had tried not to study the wine box too indepthly, he could've sworn that there had been Hebrew ingrained on the inside. Of course, that could've just been his wishful thinking. Or the old superstitions that Bubbe would use to keep them out of trouble. Whatever it was, Bucky couldn't fathom why Great Aunt Peggy would have it.

Since Bucky couldn’t make sense of his own thoughts, he threw himself into his school work. Allowing himself to get twisted up with calculus and physics rather than paranormal. Figuring that since he wasn’t able to run to Steve for comfort, he’d simply deny that anything weird had happened in the first place.

“You know he’s better off without you,” a deep voice nearly growled on Bucky’s side.

Startled, Bucky felt as though he could’ve jumped right out of his skin. Turning in his swivel computer chair, Bucky found Teddy in the doorway to his room. Although, there was something off with the way that Teddy was staring at him. Almost glaring at him. Which wasn't like Teddy. Teddy was a kind soul who tried his best to comfort others. Yet, as he stood there in the doorway, his usually blue eyes seemed dead as he heartlessly glared at Bucky.

Swallowing thickly, Bucky forced a laugh and hoped it didn’t give away his fear as he confessed, “Ya got me. Good one."

Bucky expected Teddy to laugh, or something. Anything. When he didn't, Bucky continued on. After all, when in doubt, Bucky spoke his way out. Typically it was one of his biggest tells, but for some reason, he was sure that Teddy wouldn't remember that just then. So, Bucky carried on as normal, "What are you doing anyway? Thought you were going to bed.”

“What are you doing wasting your time with Steve?” Teddy ignored Bucky’s comments and continued as though Bucky hadn’t even spoken at all. Cruelly, Teddy amended, “Or should I ask, what is _Steve_ doing wasting _his_ time on _you_?”

Brows furrowing and insecurities flaring, Bucky admitted, “This isn’t funny, Ted.”

“Not trying to make you laugh, _Buck_.”

“Then what are you trying to do?” Bucky questioned, gaze drifting over, just to the left as he found it difficult to look at his older brother directly.

“Trying to warn you,” Teddy clarified.

Feigning annoyance, Bucky crossed his arms securely along his chest and scoffed, “Warn me? Warn me about what?”

“About Steve,” Teddy explained, “He’s not the person you think he is. He’s going to change. He’s going to leave you and break your heart. Just when you need him the most.”

Although it stung, Bucky rolled his eyes and declared, “Okay, yeah. I’m sure that _Steve Rogers_, my best friend for fourteen years, is going to do that.” Bucky turned back to face his desk as he repeated, “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s not meant to be,” Teddy replied, pushing himself off the doorway and heading for his room.

Not wanting to be disturbed again, Bucky stood and crossed his room. Peeking his head out into the doorway, Bucky was startled to find Teddy standing outside of his own bedroom. Even before Bucky could think about how off Teddy was acting, he felt it. Something was definitely wrong here.

Closing his door, Bucky leaned up against it, trying to catch his breath. Heart racing, hands shaking, tears building in his eyes. There were only two people that Bucky turned to in times like these. One of them was seemingly possessed. And the other was --

Bucky's phone lit up on his desk and he rushed to get it. His literal lifeline as the contact photo of Steve in a soft, cozy giraffe onesie with a large smile on his face while Bucky kissed his cheek. Answering the phone, he sighed in relief, "Hey."


	51. Fifty-One

**Fifty-One:**

"You're a sight for sore eyes," Bucky stated with a long sigh, easing himself onto his bed.

"We're talking on the phone," Steve reminded with a soft chuckle and -- probably -- his typical shit-eating grin as he argued, "Can't see me."

"Well," Bucky ran his hand through his hair. Too relieved to rack his brain for too long, Bucky decided, "You're a sound for sore ears. How's that?"

"Better," Steve confirmed. Sure, Bucky couldn't see Steve, but he could hear the smile in his voice, and he longed so much to have Steve in his arms.

Even if it did seem particularly selfish considering what had happened earlier. What was still happening with Teddy. Not wanting to think of that, his brows furrowed and he pulled the phone back to check the time. Steve shouldn't have been calling him. But Steve was a rebel. Forcing a smirk to curl his lip up, Bucky teased, "Did you steal your phone out of the charging station, Stevie?"

For a moment, Steve was quiet. Bucky's smirk grew as Steve confirmed in a quiet sing-song, "Maybe."

"My little rebel," Bucky sweetly proclaimed.

Rubbing his hand over his face, Bucky laid back on his bed. He couldn't even believe that he actually considered Teddy's words. Even for a minute. He knew that Teddy was lying. Or rather that Not Teddy was lying. Stevie's heart belonged to Bucky, just like how Bucky's belonged to him. Only…

Steve was being too quiet.

"Stevie?" Bucky questioned, sitting up with his brows furrowing, "You there?"

Worrying his lower lip with his teeth, Bucky wondered if Steve was trying not to get into trouble. It'd be out of character for him, but hey, new school and everything. After all, Steve shouldn't have stolen his phone to begin with. Especially not if he wanted to actually stay at the school.

Unless, he didn't want to stay at the school. Bucky perked at that thought, but immediately regretted it. He shouldn't be actively hoping for things to go wrong at this school for his boyfriend. Bucky should be encouraging Steve. It was an art school, after all, and Steve deserved to thrive in an environment that catered to Steve's talents and allowed him to flourish.

Softly, Bucky repeated, "Stevie?"

"I actually called to, um," Steve started, instantly causing Bucky's heart to start racing again.

_He's going to leave you and break your heart_, Teddy's -- Not Teddy's -- words echoed in Bucky's head. Panic started rising up. And as panic rose, Bucky swore that it tasted like bile.

"Um?" Bucky questioned, frozen on his bed, only able to stare at the picture across from him on his desk. A picture of him and Steve. Him and Steve with matching wide grins and large spools of cotton candy. Back before they started dating. Back when Steve had Bucky wrapped around his little finger and back when Bucky remembered wanting to kiss Steve so painfully much to see if his lips were as sweet as the sugary concoction.

"I called to," Steve started again only to pause.

On any other night, Bucky would've been patient. Would have waited for Steve to stop stumbling over his words and just get to it. But after what Teddy had said, Bucky's insecurities were flaring more, and he needed it to be ripped off like a band aid.

"Spit out, Steve," Bucky snapped. The line grew even quieter and he immediately regretted it. Wishing to take the words back, Bucky apologized, "I'm sorry, I just --"

"No, it's okay," Steve reassured. Sounding more secure in himself as he admitted, "It's late."

"It is," Bucky confirmed, dragging his hand down over his face, Bucky gave his own confession, "And I haven't had the best night."

"You haven't?" Steve questioned, sounding ready for a fight, "Why not? What happened? Are you okay?"

Although he hated it, Bucky felt relieved to know that Steve cared. Only briefly though as he suddenly wondered where he would even start. What would he even say? Sure, Steve was open-minded -- it was one of the many things that Bucky loved about his boyfriend -- but he doubted Steve would understand _this_.

"I --" Bucky started to decline. Only, he didn't feel… alone. Almost as though someone or _something_ was watching him. Climbing off his bed, he snuck over to his door, quietly leaning his ear against it.

When he heard breathing coming from the other side, his heart jumped up into his throat and his stomach dipped low. The danger bells were alarming in his head and, as quietly as possible, Bucky stepped back. Backing up to the furthest corner of his room, Bucky debated whether he should just climb out the window.

"I think I'd rather tell you in person," Bucky admitted.

"Lucky for you, great minds think alike," Steve replied, letting out a breath as though he was holding it.

Bucky's brows furrowed, as his gaze snapped to his door. At the bottom of the door, he could see someone standing there. As he went to question Steve if it was him, and how he got into his house, a pebble hit his window. Startled, Bucky jumped, hitting his hip on the side table and stubbing his toe on his bed frame.

"Chill, it's me," Steve softly chuckled.

Turning to look out his window, he found Steve on the lawn. Briefly, Bucky wondered why Steve was there. Wondering how he got there. Instead of asking though, Bucky confirmed, “I’ll be right down.”


	52. Fifty-Two

**Fifty-Two:**

Hanging up his phone, Bucky slipped it into the pocket of his black joggers sweats. When Bucky had dreamed about this exact predicament, he always imagined sneaking down the hall and the staircase. Even planning in great detail how he would strategically skip over the spots that creaked on his way right through the front door and out of the house. Now that it was actually happening, Bucky had to come up with another plan.

After all, he had absolutely no intentions to cross Not Teddy’s path. Especially not as he stood just outside of his room in the hallway. And definitely not while the day's activities lingered in the air and clung to Bucky.

So, Bucky shrugged out of his robe and threw open the window. Slipping the screen out of the frame, Bucky stuck his right leg out first. Never having done this before, Bucky straddled the frame for a moment to catch his breath. Trying desperately to muster up what little courage he currently had left in order to climb down the trellis that leaned against the side of the house. Winifred’s beloved rose vines wrapped around the wooden frame and Bucky tried not to smoosh them on his way down.

Tried being the operative word. Whether he succeeded was another matter entirely and one that he hoped his mom wouldn't notice.

Once sturdy on the ground, Bucky rushed over to Steve. Wrapping Steve up in his arms before he could even properly greet him. But that was a greeting in its own right as Steve clung tightly to Bucky too while he lifted him off his feet. Really though, Bucky just needed to feel Steve in his arms to see that he was actually there. That this wasn't a trick. That he was _real_.

Needing to see Steve's face, Bucky leaned back and immediately paused. Remnants of dried blood was still dotted around Steve's face and had stained his naturally porcelain pale skin red. Bucky's eyes darted from one spot to another as his panic and anger rose. Blood dried nostrils, busted lip, black eye. It was all adding to Bucky's need to protect.

Bucky's jaw clenched as he gently cradled Steve's face in his hands. Trying to school his anger, Bucky asked through his teeth, "What happened?"

Steve bit his fat lip, but winced when he broke the scab of the fresh cut, causing Bucky's chest to clench. He knew that Steve could handle his own -- hell, he made sure that Steve could as he taught him how to fight -- but Bucky didn't like seeing his boyfriend bloodied and bruised. Especially not knowing what happened.

Finally, Steve answered, "Hazing?"

"Hazing?" Bucky questioned, snapping his mouth closed and grinding his teeth. People were purposely putting Steve through pain just to initiate him? Hell, no. Fuck that. Bucky Barnes refused to stand by and let this happen. Whether Steve could handle it himself or not, Bucky didn't care. Right then, all he wanted was to know, "Who? Who do they think they are? What are their names? How dare --"

"Buck," Steve interrupted, reaching up to cup Bucky's face. Soothingly, Steve stroked the side of Bucky's jaw to calm him down as he reassured, "It's okay. They're not going to do it again."

"They better not."

"They won't," Steve sounded so sure. And when Steve was this sure about something, Bucky knew that it was true. For one thing was always certain about Steve, he meant what he said. Always.

Taking in a deep breath to steady his nerves, Bucky rested his forehead against Steve's and closed his eyes. Steve was the one that Bucky could always rely on. The only person who could lift Bucky up while grounding him at the same time. If Bucky was a kite, Steve would be the tether.

Stroking the back of Bucky's hair, Steve quietly asked, "You okay?"

Shaking his head, Bucky brought Steve even closer. Nuzzling his face in the crook of Steve's neck, Bucky breathed in Steve's scent of lemon and lavender and, underneath that, deeper there was that _something_ that made Steve, Steve. If Bucky could bottle that scent, he'd make it a detergent so he'd fall asleep feeling safe and loved.

"Buck?" Steve whispered, "Babe? You're kind of scaring me."

Scaring Steve? Oh no. Nope. That just wouldn't work. Bucky couldn't scare Steve. Couldn't even think about it. Even back when they were just friends, it had always felt bad. Never had an issue teaming up with Steve to scare Teddy, or Sam, or even his uncles. But scaring Steve felt downright blasphemous.

Pulling back, Bucky pushed Steve's messy hair off his face and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Dropping his arm, he took Steve's hand in his and suggested, "Let's go for a walk."

"Okay," Steve agreed, squeezing Bucky's hand. Something behind Bucky caught Steve's eye, and his gaze drifted over.

With his back to his house, Bucky stiffened. Rigidly, Bucky was aware that something was watching them, and he knew that they needed to go. Needed to leave before it could hurt Steve the way it had hurt everyone else this afternoon.

"Everything okay with Ted--"

"Hey," Bucky swallowed thickly and tugged on Steve's hand, "Thought we were going on a walk."

"We are," Steve confirmed, following Bucky down the driveway to the street, even as his eyes drifted up to look at Not Teddy in the window.


	53. Fifty-Three

**Fifty-Three:**

Hand in hand, the pair walked down the abandoned street. The lamp lights dotted along the street lit their way. But other than that, they felt completely alone. On any other night, perhaps Bucky would've appreciated that. Tonight though?

"So," Bucky started, stalling, "What's the academy like?"

Steve shrugged, "Fine, I guess."

"Fine? You guess?" Bucky asked, tugging at Steve's hand to gain his attention. Steve pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose instead and Bucky teased, "Might want to tell that to your face, pal."

"Rather not talk about it right now," Steve replied with a soft sigh.

"Oh, c'mon," Bucky prompted, still stalling, "There's not even _one_ thing that you liked about it?"

"Well," Steve conceded, "I did make a friend."

"A friend?" Bucky questioned, trying to push down the tiny bit of jealously that was suddenly building up.

"Easy there, Buck," Steve chuckled. "No need to go all green on me. Her name is Natasha."

"Natasha," Bucky tested out. Feigning a vague European accent, Bucky repeated, "Natasha." Wiggling his eyebrows, Bucky teased, "She sounds hot."

Playfully shoving Bucky's broad shoulder, Steve rolled his eyes, "Don't worry. Even if I wasn't in love with you, Natasha is so far out of my league that she should be dating you."

"What-the-fuck-ever," Bucky scoffed and slung his arm over Steve's narrow shoulders, holding the only person he wanted to be with close to his body. Pressing his lips to Steve's temple, Bucky debated, "The only one who's out of anyone's league, is you, babe."

Not in the mood to argue, Steve commanded, "Bucky Barnes, will you stop stalling and tell me what's bothering you, already?"

Sighing against the side of Steve's head, Bucky agreed, "Fine."

Of course, just because Bucky agreed to stop stalling didn't mean that he was just going to get to it. After all, he had no idea where to start. Where could he start? There was so much that happened in such a small amount of time. Everything had happened so quickly too.

"I don't know where to start," Bucky quietly admitted, still keeping his arm slung along Bucky's shoulders.

With a shrug, Steve unhelpfully suggested, "The beginning?"

"The beginning," Bucky mocked, "Why didn't I think of that?"

"James," Steve warned.

"Okay, okay," Bucky sighed. Paranoid, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure that they weren't being followed. When he didn't see anything, Bucky faced the front again and kept his gaze on the sidewalk as he asked, "Do you remember those stories that Bubbe used to tell us?"

"Um," Steve started, brows furrowing as he looked up at Bucky. Bucky, however, didn't return the gaze. So, Bucky continued, "I guess. Bubbe told us a lot of stories though. So…"

"The ones," Bucky paused, chewing on his lower lip. His face tense, just like his body. Even with Steve under his arm and close to his body, Bucky couldn't relax. Especially not with this particular stature, "The ones where, um… with, uh… ghosts…?"

"Ghosts?" Steve asked. His mind immediately going to the woman from Stark Orchards. Stark's daughter who died giving birth. Tensing, Steve lamely joked, "You been seeing dead people, Buck?"

"No," Bucky shook his head. Completely serious as he finally confessed, albeit rushed, "IthinkwereleasedadybbukatSharon's."

Being in Bucky's life for almost the entirety of it, Steve deciphered, "A dybbuk? At Sharon's?"

"Yes," Bucky nodded his head. Running his free hand through his tousled brown hair, Bucky continued, "And I know that it sounds crazy because most people don't believe that spirits exist. But I swear to you, Stevie, that what happened today wasn't something that can be explained away."

Steve stopped walking then. And since Steve stopped, Bucky did too. Bucky turned and stood in front of him while Steve stared up at him with furrowed brows. Studying his boyfriend, Steve asked, "A dybbuk?"

Nodding, Bucky recalled, "A restless, or um, malicious… spirit." Eyes roaming around their surroundings, on guard, Bucky added, "A Jewish… thing."

"And you think you released it?" Steve questioned, more serious than Bucky had expected.

Not that Bucky was complaining. At least it was better than being mocked for it. Bucky sighed in relief and the corner of his mouth quirked up in an easy grin as he pulled Steve in for a hug. Giddy in his relief, Bucky giggled and asked, "You believe me?"

"Of course, I do," Steve reassured, taking Bucky's hands in his. Giving them comforting squeezes, Steve asked, "Why wouldn't I?"

Bucky shrugged, "This isn't something that people usually believe."

"You're acting as though I haven't also had my fair share of strange occurrences," Steve let slip. Eyes widening -- and wincing from it hurting his black eye -- Steve pressed his lips together. He really shouldn't have said that. Before Bucky could question him though, Steve asked, "What… happened?"

"Well," Bucky started. Tugging Steve's hand, they continued walking down the street. For some reason, it helped. Bucky explained, "I went to help Sharon go through her Aunt Peggy's things --"

"Shit, I forgot that was this weekend."

Seeing the sadness paint over Steve's expression, Bucky brought Steve's hand up to his mouth and kissed it. Reassuring, "I'm glad you weren't there. It was… It was like a horror film."

"It was that bad?"

The day flashed by in Bucky's mind as he confirmed, "It was that bad." Breath hitching, Bucky confessed, "And I think it's only going to get worse."

Steve's brows furrowed in his seriousness as he asked, "What do you mean?"

Take in a deep breath, Bucky stopped lying to himself, "I think Teddy's possessed."


	54. Fifty-Four

**Fifty-Four:**

"You think I'm crazy, don't you," Bucky assumed since Steve was just staring at him.

Of course, Steve didn't think he was crazy. In fact, Steve found talks of spirits and possession to be some of the most normal things in his life. After all, he had grown up with it. Grew up learning everything about the natural order of the world as lessons were passed down from generation to generation until they reached him. _This_ was what Steve was familiar with.

Unfortunately, Steve couldn't exactly tell Bucky that. Bucky was a mortal. Although Steve had no issue with breaking rules, there was one that he would never break. And Steve refused to break that rule because it put some of the most important people in his life in danger. No, not just danger. It would end them. If a mortal knew about them, it would cost the mortal -- and the guilty inhuman -- their life.

Sure, there were special cases such as deals. But the deals involved a terms of agreements where the mortal would exchange their very souls for their most desired. And Hive help whoever an inhuman cursed. _Alveus knows_ that Steve would never want to be on that side of the coin.

Even with Steve being a product of a mortal and an inhuman, Steve was a special exception. Beyond that though, it wasn't like his parents lived a long, happy life together.

There was no way that Steve would put Bucky in any situation. The best scenario was for Bucky to be oblivious to the darker side of things. And there wasn't a force on Maveth or on Earth that could make Steve risk the love of his life like that. Steve was willing to fight nail and tooth to keep Bucky out of harm's way. Especially after the nightmares that he had.

Yet, as they strolled down the quiet street hand-in-hand, Steve heavily debated it. This was different. It wasn't Steve just exposing himself and his coven to Bucky for shits and gigs. Bucky could be in danger. Teddy could be in danger.

Licking over his lower lip, Steve asked, "Teddy was scratched?" Bucky mutely nodded his confirmation. Steve nodded too and tried to make further sense, "Before you were dragged away?"

"No," Bucky corrected, "After. He was trying to help me."

Silently, Steve nodded to himself. It sounded like a possession. Sure, Steve wasn't very well verse in taking care of a possession, but he knew how to spot one. He probably should've realized it when he found Teddy standing in the window watching them.

"And Sam and Sharon were there?" Steve asked, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he thought.

Bucky gave his hand a squeeze, a gentle reminder to get him to stop. Steve retracted his teeth from the wall of his cheek and tried to relax his mouth as Bucky replied, "Yeah. They're fine. They think we locked it back up in the box."

"A wine box?"

Bucky nodded again, "Wine cabinet."

Steve nodded too. Wishing that he had been there. He could've helped. He would've known what to do. Especially after hearing what happened to his friends. With Sam gaining a gash in his leg that needed three stitches and Sharon being choked. _Hydra on a banana!_ Steve internally face-palmed, _They could've died!_

Clenching the hand not held by Bucky into a fist, Steve could feel the rage building inside of him. Thanks to Uncle Loki, Steve's friends and boyfriend could've all died today! _But_, Steve supposed, _Then Loki would get his way_.

Choosing to focus on getting all the facts right, Steve asked, "And there was Hebrew inscription?"

"That's what it looked like to me," Bucky said. Then, a bit more sheepishly, "But I didn't exactly get a good look at it."

"I don't blame ya," Steve sweetly smirked. Looking down at his feet, Steve felt terrible as he suggested, "Don't suppose there's any way that you could get a better look, right?"

Bucky was uncharacteristically quiet. So, Steve decided to fill the silence. Glancing up at his handsome boyfriend, Steve lightly reasoned, "If it's in Teddy, it's not in the box."

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Steve was sure that he had said the wrong thing. Until Bucky chuckled. A loud bark of a laugh escaped Bucky and brought a smile to Steve's face. He had Bucky more than he thought, and sure, Bucky was probably having a mental breakdown. But there was only so much Steve could expect after everything Bucky went through today.

"God, I love you," Bucky declared, pulling Steve back into him. Kissing Steve's forehead, Bucky told him, "I missed you entirely too much."

Wrapping his arms around Bucky's waist, Steve buried his face in Bucky's broad chest, "I missed you, too. So much."

"Good," Bucky kissed Steve's temple, "Wouldn't want you to forget me for _Natasha_."

Playfully, Steve poked Bucky's sides, causing his chuckles to start up again. Steve held him just a bit tighter. They had both come so close to losing each other. And Steve was determined to spend as much time with Bucky as he could. Thankfully, it was clear that Bucky was on the same page as him.

Even if he did pull back too soon for Steve's liking. Adamantly, Bucky decided, "I think I could get the box to you. Sharon wanted me to take it to your house anyway."

"Yeah?" Steve smirked. Wiggling his eyebrows -- as best he could with a cut that was bound to scar -- Steve teased, "Ya know, you may just be the cutest delivery boy we've ever had."

Wiggling his own eyebrows, Bucky leaned forward and pressed a sweet kiss to Steve's lips. Holding Steve closer, and sensually, Bucky whispered in his ear, "I wish you weren't so bruised. I'd really like to kiss you until I have to resuscitate you."

Many chills had shuddered down Steve's spine in the past weekend, but none of them had felt as good as just then. Closing his eyes and tossing his head back, Steve rasped, "Well, there's a lot of other places to kiss."

To prove Steve's point, Bucky started trailing soft kisses up the column of his neck. All the while playfully musing, "So there is."

Contently, Steve hummed and offered, "Might even sneak ya into my room, since I missed ya so much."

"Now, that sounds a lot better than what I had in mind for tonight," Bucky tenderly nipped just below Steve's ear.

Steve's breath hitched and he asked, "What were you planning on doing?"

"Homework," Bucky honestly answered.

Barking out a startled laugh, Steve affectionately mocked, "You're such a dork."

Bucky whispered, "You love me."

"I really do," Steve confirmed. Pulling out of Bucky's embrace, he ignored Bucky's pouting and tugged on his hand, "C'mon. Let's go home."


	55. Fifty-Five

**Fifty-Five:**

Hitting the floor with a hard thud, startled Steve awake. For a moment, he was afraid that he had been thrown back into The Hell-Beast's Cell. But he didn’t feel the dirt floor beneath him. Instead, feeling the smooth, cool hardwood floor of his bedroom.

Sitting up, Steve grabbed his glasses from the side table and looked around him. His room was dark, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Brushing along the bottom of his feet, Steve was relieved to find that his feet weren't dirty, so he hadn't wandered in his sleep.

However, Steve's relief didn't last for long. A quiet, hurt whimpered broke through the silence of his bedroom. Brows furrowed, Steve pushed himself to stand and found Bucky tossing in his sleep. Clearly, Bucky was struggling in his sleep, and that just wouldn't do.

Steve climbed back into his bed and crawled over to Bucky. Quietly, Steve pushed Bucky's dark hair away from his sweaty forehead where it was matting. But that didn't calm his boyfriend. Bucky's face remained pinched, causing Steve's chest to clench.

Sliding down the side of Bucky, along the length of his body, Steve soothingly stroked the side of Bucky's face. All the while, Steve shushed, "Buck, you're okay. You're okay."

When Bucky's whimpering finally quieted and his body started to settled, Steve allowed himself to relax. Pressing soft, comforting kisses to Bucky's face, Steve continued quietly, "I'm here. You're okay."

Tired, Steve finally slumped against Bucky, ready to fall back asleep. Taking off his glasses, Steve set them aside and snuggled back up to his sleeping boyfriend. Yawning, Steve felt safe. And since Steve felt safe, he allowed himself to be lulled back to sleep with Bucky's heartbeat, no matter how erratic it currently was. Everything was exactly as it should --

Screaming, Bucky launched himself to sit up. Eyes wide open now, Steve grabbed his glasses once again. Shoving them back onto his face, the lights were turned on.

"Steve?" Uncle Thor rushed into the bedroom, but paused when he spotted Steve's bed. Eyes going from Steve comforting Bucky, to screaming Bucky, and back to Steve. Brows furrowed, Thor asked, "What…?"

"Obviously, we should've been more clear," Loki crossed his arms along his chest as he joined Thor in Steve's room, "You're grounded, Steven Grant. The fact that we had to pick you up --"

"He was defending himself," Thor defended.

"-- And the fact that you care more about your mortal schooling," Loki continued as though Thor never said anything at all, "You're grounded. So, what in all of Maveth, is Bucky Barnes doing in your bed?"

Choosing to ignore his uncles, Steve focused on calming Bucky. Rubbing his bare back, Steve soothed, "It's okay. You're okay. You're safe."

"What in the name of Alveus is going on?" Hildy questioned, joining the rest of the family in Steve's room.

Only, Hildy wasn't alone as a blonde joined her. Sliding in under Hildy's muscular arm as Bucky finally stopped screaming, she asked, "Everything okay in here."

"What?" Bucky's strained voice asked. Brows furrowed, Bucky looked over at the full of Steve's family crowding into Steve's room. Eyes stinging, he ground his teeth together to keep the tears from falling over. Unfortunately, Bucky was too emotionally drained to refrain for too long and turned into Steve's narrow shoulder to shield his face.

"I think a cup of tea will help," Thor stated, exchanging a knowing look with Steve. As he went to leave the bedroom, he shooed everyone else out of the room with him. Closing the door, Thor gave Steve a reassuring look.

The only person that Steve could focus on though was his boyfriend who was crying into the crook of his neck and staining the t-shirt that Bucky let him borrow. Smoothing his hand down Bucky's bare back, Steve whispered, "Nightmare?"

Mutely, Bucky nodded and sniffled. Steve nodded in silent reply and reassured, "It's okay." And despite knowing it wasn't always true, Steve comforted, "It was just a dream. It wasn't real."

"He --" a sob broke through Bucky. Breath catching, Bucky tried again, "He… killed… you."

Heart stumbling a beat, Steve's hand paused. Bucky's words hit a little too close to home, so to speak. Especially with everything that had happened recently. It was more than Steve was prepared for. Yet, he knew that he had to get more information. After all, what if Bucky was prophetic? It was in Steve's best interest to get as many details as possible.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Steve questioned, "Who?"

"I --" Bucky's voice cracked as his breathing started to turn ragged again with his sobs, "I… did."

"Shh," Steve soothingly smoothed his hand down Bucky's bare spine again. Bucky held Steve tighter and allowed his sobs to freely flow. Tears were building in Steve's own eyes while his heart raced in his chest. Steve knew that Bucky would never hurt him. But if he became possessed…

As sure about this as he was that birds flew and fishes swam, Steve confirmed, "It wasn't you. You'd never --"

"Never," Bucky agreed, pulling back to look at Steve. With shaky hands, Bucky cupped Steve's face and promised, "Never."

"I know," Steve conceded, wiping Bucky's tears off his cheeks, "I know. I love you, and you love me."

A bit erratically, Bucky nodded and pressed a kiss to Steve's forehead. Pulling Steve in close, Bucky held him as though he was never going to let him go. Which is precisely what Steve hoped he'd do; never let him go. Just like he promised.


	56. Fifty-Six

**Fifty-Six:**

"Here," Thor consoled, handing Bucky a mug of hot tea.

"Thanks," Bucky rasped, taking the mug. As he brought the mug to his mouth, he paused. Hesitant in a way that he normally wasn't. Bucky typically trusted the Odinsons. Of course, they had given Bucky no reason not to trust them. Still, Bucky quirked a brow and glanced over at Steve.

"It'll help calm you," Thor encouraged, taking a seat on the foot of the bed. Making sure to not seem too imposing while still conveying that he knew what was best. Bucky glanced away from Steve and over at Thor, where he nodded reassuringly.

Bucky still didn't look all that convinced, so Steve added, "It always works for me."

And that was exactly the right thing to say because Bucky took a large gulp of the tea. Never being the wiser that Thor's calming teas were enchanted. Special spices and magical herbs always gave the natural melatonin that extra boost that it needed. Sometimes, Steve thought that Uncle Thor should mass produce it. But he knew better than to ever suggest it.

After two more sips, Bucky groggily set the mug down and settled back into Steve's bed. Of course, that left Thor and Steve awake. Steve slumped down in his bed, wishing that he could take a drink of the tea and go back to sleep. Only, Steve knew that he had to talk to his uncle.

"Teddy is possessed," Steve stated, getting straight to the point.

Thor's brows arched high on his forehead as he asked, "Are you sure?"

Steve glanced over at his snoring boyfriend and shrugged, "Bucky thinks so."

"Well, I'm sure that Teddy's not," Thor stated, even though he had to admit that it wasn't like Bucky to say something like that. For all intents and purposes, Bucky was fairly logical when it came to life in general. When he wasn't mooning over Steve, he was positively levelheaded. Thor reasoned with a gentle grin and a pat to Steve's covered leg, "Mortals aren't often correct in their assumptions. Possession rarely happen. So, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, little one."

"But," Steve paused, chewing on his busted lower lip. Internally debating between telling Thor about sneaking out to see Bucky, and realizing that Bucky was already there, so it was obvious what he did. Looking at his hands, Steve admitted, "I saw him."

"Saw Teddy?" Thor questioned.

Steve nodded, confirming, "He didn't seem like himself."

"Maybe," Thor paused, thinking. Finally deciding on, "He was just having an off --"

"Bucky thinks it's a dybbuk," Steve informed. Feeling a bit heated in his protectiveness while his rage rose, he ticked off on his fingers, "It attacked Bucky, Sam, and Sharon! And now it's _in_ Teddy! Bucky said that it _scratched_ him!"

Thor sat there for a moment. Turning his sight from Steve to Bucky, and back to Steve before looking down at the bedspread with a far-off gaze. Brows furrowed as he thought, he kept quiet as Steve went on a winded tangent about how he shouldn't have been sent off to the academy, so he could protect his friends.

When Steve finally wore himself out and slumped into his pillows, Thor asked, "Teddy was scratched?"

Too tired to vocalize his confirmation, Steve simply nodded. Briefly spotting his own features in Thor's, and wishing that there was some photos of his uncle from before his transgenesis. Unfortunately, that predated cameras by a good few centuries.

"A dybbuk?" Thor questioned, getting another mute nod from Steve. Thor nodded too, and patted Steve's leg again in a calculated manner that was all too familiar to Steve's childhood memories as he reassured, "I'll look into it. Get some rest, little one."

Rest sounded good. Sounded perfect. Especially after the weekend he had. Steve could rest. Rest without fear of being carried off to The Hell-Beast's Cell. Without fear of having a bucket of ice-cold water poured on him. Without the fear that he might die --

_Wait!_

As Thor stood by the door, ready to turn the light off, Steve shot up and rushed, "Bucky had a nightmare that he killed me."

Thor's jaw clenched. Only for a moment. Then, Thor fiercely informed Steve, "_No one_ is going to kill you."

"But --"

"_No one_," Thor promised. Relaxing his jaw, and his expression as a whole, Thor suggested, "Now, don't worry about it anymore, we'll take care of it tomorrow. Just try and get some sleep."

Deciding to listen to his uncle, Steve took off his glasses and placed them on the bed side table. Thor waited until Steve was settled in his bed, before he turned off the light and left the bedroom. Closing the door behind him as he exited, Steve yawned and turned to nuzzle into his snoring boyfriend. Feeling safer in that moment than he had all month.


	57. Fifty-Seven

**Fifty-Seven:**

"Christ on a cracker, you look like you were dragged through hell," Sharon greeted Steve and Bucky at her front door.

"Right?" Steve teased, "I told Bucky that he needed to get more sleep."

"Ha," Bucky deadpanned, following Steve inside the Carter home and closing the door behind him.

"Seriously, though," Sharon's brows were still furrowed with her concern, "What happened? I thought you were going to some hoity-toity art academy."

"See," Bucky widened his eyes to get his point across as he used wild hand gestures to show that he was agreeing with their friend.

Steve rolled his eyes and gave Sharon the same excuse that he gave Bucky. Mainly, because it was true, "Hazing."

"Huh," Sharon crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes as she studied Steve. Steve averted her gaze and ran his hand through his hair. They came for the box, not an interrogation. Finally, Sharon said, "I bet I could take 'em."

"As much as I appreciate that," Steve trailed off, giving the grand staircase a pointed look.

"Right!" Sharon snapped out of her calm demeanor. However, the rigidness that replaced her easy-going mood, flipped Steve's stomach like a light switch. Visibly more nervous, Sharon started leading them up to the second story of her home. Pausing on the steps, she turned back to face the boys and asked, "Are you going to be able to carry it out?"

"I think we can manage," Bucky answered before Steve could, causing Steve to wonder just how large this wine cabinet was.

Almost as though Sharon could read Steve's mind, Sharon winked, "Luckily we have such a strapping, stud here, huh?"

With a playful swat to Steve's bum, Bucky replied before he could. Flirting as he insinuated that Steve was the one Sharon was talking about. Even adding an earnest, "We sure are!"

Steve shook his head at the comment, all the while, Bucky chuckled behind him. Of course, Steve preferred his laughter over his screaming. Bucky's screaming and frightened whimpering had haunted Steve throughout the night. Even with Uncle Thor using a smidge of his powers to ease Steve back into slumber, Steve couldn't shake the fear that settled back into his bones in the morning.

There was nothing that Steve wouldn't do to keep his friends safe. To keep Bucky safe. Especially Bucky.

More and more, Steve was starting to wonder if there would be a way to use his powers to help them. To protect them. The way that Uncle Thor did. Maybe if he went through with --

"Okay," Sharon announced, securing the ladder and taking a step back. Out of the way, Sharon gestured up to the attic, "All yours."

"You're not joining us?" Steve questioned with furrowed brows.

Glancing up at the ominous attic, Steve started to think that this might be a bad idea. That they should've had his uncles go with them. Only, Thor had an interview at The Mad Scientist: Coffee and Oddity Shop. And Loki was nowhere to be found once Steve and Bucky woke up. Hildy could've been helpful. If her date, Carol, hadn't made breakfast.

"As much as I would love that…" Sharon trailed off, averting her gaze from the attic to the floor while she held herself.

Clapping a comforting hand on Sharon's shoulder, Bucky reassured, "It's okay."

Sharon nodded, but her teeth remained in her lower lip as she worried. Steve glanced back up at the attic. Taking in a deep breath, Steve steadied himself and started up the ladder, with Bucky right on his heels. And when Bucky playfully patted his bum, Steve didn't even attempt to feign annoyance. Instead, he was relieved to have his boyfriend and best friend there with him.

Once they were on level footing, Sharon called up the opening, "It should be on the left. I covered it up with a floral sheet to try and… cheer up… the space…?"

Steve turned around to look for the floral sheet. The attic was dimly lit, the complete opposite of how the Odinson's attic was. Of course, it made sense for them to be different since the attic had been transformed into an apartment for Hildy.

Next to the window, Steve spotted a pink sheet dotted with tiny white flowers. It was an old sheet and Steve immediately recognized it as the one that used to resign on Sharon's twin size bed before she upgraded. The same soft, cotton sheet that Steve had experienced his first kiss with Sharon.

Stomach knotting at both the memory and fear of the wine cabinet, Steve started heading over. Realizing this, Bucky quickly tried to fall in step with him. Stumbling over his feet until he grabbed onto Steve's wrist to steady himself. But kept his grip all the while they crossed the room.

The closer they moved, however, the tighter Bucky's grasp became. Worrying Steve even more. Glancing over at his boyfriend, Steve asked, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Bucky lied. Taking in a deep breath, he repeated, "If it's in Teddy, it's not in the box."

"Oh, so you do listen to me," Steve mocked, trying to lighten the mood. When he still didn't get the reaction he was hoping for, Steve added, "And here I was thinkin' that you were only with me for my looks."

"Well, your looks do keep me interested," Bucky deadpanned. Giving Steve a sideways glance, Bucky made sure to give him a reassuring wink, just in case he didn't pick up on his teasing.

Of course, Steve could spot Bucky's mirth from a mile away. So ingrained in Steve that it might as well have been coded straight into his very DNA. Still, Steve played his part and rolled his eyes. Feigning annoyance, just like always.

Finally reaching the covered wine cabinet, Steve reached out with a shaking hand. Pinching the sheet between his finger and thumb, Steve took in a deep breath and pulled the sheet off the cursed piece of furniture. Only --

"Where's the cabinet?" Bucky questioned with wide eyes, looking at the old jewelry box that sat where the wine cabinet should've been. Noticing that hanging from one of the hooks was a locket opened to show two pictures: Teddy's old kindergarten school photo, and Bucky's. Fear striking right into Bucky's heart seeing his mother's gold locket.


	58. Fifty-Eight

**Fifty-Eight:**

Quickly, Bucky dropped his grasp from Steve's wrist. As his eyes darted around the attic, Bucky pulled Steve under his arm. Making sure to protect his petite boyfriend the best that he could. Knowing that he couldn't let _it_ get to Steve. Knowing that he'd rather drop dead right there than let anything even _think_ about harming Steve. Knowing that he'd rather die than cause Steve harm, himself.

A chill shot down Bucky's spine, and he held Steve just that bit closer. Bucky advised, "We need to get out of here. Now."

"Why?" Steve asked, careening his head back to look up at Bucky.

With his heart beating erratically in his chest, Bucky explained as best he could, "This doesn't feel right."

Voice tight, Steve attempted to ease the fear from Bucky. Teasing, "I take it that's not the wine cabinet."

"Shar," Bucky called, as he started to rush across the room. Steve tripped over his feet, but Bucky kept a firm grasp on him. Debating for a moment if he should pick Steve up and toss him over his shoulder. Instead, Bucky questioned, "Sharon, did you move the cabinet? It's not --"

A loud clang, and the attic door slammed shut before they could reach it. Bucky skidded to a stop and pulled Steve back to himself. Panting, Bucky dropped to his knees and pushed at the door in the floor. However, it wasn't opening.

It didn't even budge.

Banging on the wood, Bucky yelled, "This isn't funny! Open the door!"

A long-fingered hand curled around Bucky's broad shoulder, causing him to fling himself away from the touch and knock over Steve in the process. Heart racing, he watched as Steve sat up. Steve held his elbow and looked up at Bucky with furrowed brows, "What…?"

_Look at what you did_, echoed in Bucky's head. Steve took his hand from his elbow and grabbed onto the side of an old rocking chair. Blood colored Steve's hand, and now the dusty wood of the chair. Bucky's stomach roiled as the voice claimed, _You hurt him. You're a monster._

"Buck," Steve ambled over to his boyfriend. Blood dripped down his arm as he gestured for Bucky to join him, "C'mon."

"We gotta get outta here," Bucky warned, crawling back over to the door. As Steve went to push on the door, Bucky informed, "It's locked."

Or at least, it had been locked.

Easily, Steve ran his hand along the seam of the door and finally pushed the door open, allowing the ladder to fall to the floor. Grabbing onto the rungs of the ladder, Steve gave it a shake to make sure that it was steady and gestured for Bucky to go first.

Bucky's brows furrowed and he shook his head, "No. How'd you…? It was…? This doesn't… feel right."

Steve looked down through the exit to the second floor, checking to make sure the coast was clear. Looking over at Bucky, Steve placed his feet on the ladder rungs. Before he could start moving though, Bucky grabbed Steve's shirt and harshly yanked at the fabric as he questioned, "What are you doing?!"

"Leaving," Steve answered, his face scrunching up as he reasoned, "The cabinet's not here, and we need to find it."

"But -- doesn't this feel --" Bucky paused, bit his lower lip, and tried again. More adamant as he finally stated, "This is a trap."

"Maybe," Steve shrugged, agreeing, "But we can't just hide up here. We gotta make sure that no one gets hurt."

Bucky knew that Steve was right. Yet, looking at Steve's bleeding elbow, he still asked, "But what if you're the one who gets hurt?"

Glancing at his injured arm, Steve shrugged and looked back up at Bucky, "What if I do? Doesn't change that we should do what we can to help others."

Bucky glanced at the second floor of the Carter house. It seemed darker than it should've, and Bucky realized that Sharon wasn't standing where she had been. With his brows furrowing, Bucky briefly changed the subject as he asked, "Where's Sharon?"

Steve blanched and glanced down, realizing that Sharon wasn't there. Returning his gaze to Bucky, Steve said, "We need to leave. Right now."

Nodding, Bucky reluctantly let go of Steve's shirt and eyed him as he headed down the ladder. Only moving downward, himself, once he knew that Steve was safely on the ground. Debating whether he should just hop down the rest of the way when he felt it was taking too long to make his way down. Before he could make up his mind though, his feet touched the floor and he quickly turned to face Steve, not wanting to lose him.

"Sharon?" Steve called out as they rushed down the hallway. Still calling as they quickly ran down the staircase and moved from room to room.

When the bedrooms upstairs, and the rest of the house turned up empty, Bucky shuddered. Thinking back to Winifred's locket hanging in the jewelry box in the attic, Bucky feared that he knew where Sharon might be.

Bucky's mouth feeling like it was full of bubblegum as it stuck together, he guessed, "We need to go to my house."

A flash of an unrecognizable emotion crossed Steve's face when he looked up at Bucky. But as soon as Bucky noticed it, it was gone, and Steve agreed, "Let's go."


	59. Fifty-Nine

**Fifty-Nine:**

The wind bustled around them as they raced out of the Carter's house. Hand-in-hand, Bucky opened the passenger door to his truck for Steve, and only let go of Steve's hand when he had to. Steve quickly buckled as Bucky closed the door to rush around to the driver's side. Reaching up, Steve started the truck while Bucky climbed in behind the steering wheel and buckled his seat belt.

"You okay?" Bucky asked, glancing over at Steve.

Steve's breathing erratic, he nodded and lied, "Yeah."

Of course, Steve wasn't. There was something wrong. Extremely wrong. It was in the air as it harshly whipped around them. The clouds dark as if predicting a storm. Only, this didn't feel like regular weather. No, this felt more ominous. Darker. Magical in the worst way.

Even the truck was having a difficult time at staying up-right as Bucky drove down the road. Steve wondered if Bucky could feel the thickness and danger in the air. With one look over at him and the way he was cautiously looking around, Steve could assume that he did. And that was --

"Fuck!" Bucky exclaimed as he slammed on his brakes, causing them both to jerk forward while their seat belts held them back.

Turning his attention forward, Steve stared out the window wide-eyed and slack-jawed. There, standing in the middle of the road was the pregnant spirit. Her wispy blonde hair matted to her sweaty forehead while her eyes bore into Steve and Bucky. Her hands were grasping her ballooned abdomen and she shook her head. Mutely warning them. Of what though, Steve didn't know for sure. But he could guess: she didn't want them to go to Bucky's house.

Steve couldn't just _not_ go to save his friends though. So, clenching his jaw, Steve made the decision to keep going. Ordering Bucky, "Drive."

"Steve --"

"Drive," Steve repeated more fiercely as he interrupted Bucky's protests. When Bucky glanced over at him, Steve returned the look, but kept his voice firm as he sternly demanded, "We can't just sit here and do nothing."

So, Bucky pushed down on the gas. Before the truck could hit the spirit, she disappeared. All the while, the wind pushed against the sides of the truck. Almost as though the wind was trying to flip them over and stop them from reaching their destination. And Steve would be damned if he didn't do everything in his power to help those he loved.

Placing his hands on the dashboard, palms down, grip firm, Steve started quietly casting, "It came fast; it came easy. Make this wind less fierce; more breezy."

"Um, amen?" Bucky questioned, taking a sharp left. Trying to lighten the mood, Bucky joked, "Do you try to make all your prayers rhyme?"

"Not a prayer," Steve answered, glancing over at Bucky. Considering all the things they had witnessed -- even with Steve gone at the academy -- and knowing that he'd do anything to protect them, Steve decided that he couldn't keep it a secret. So, he figured, _why the Maveth not_, and admitted, "It was a spell."

Bucky quirked a brow and took his eyes off the road before him to look over at Steve, "A _spell_? Like _magic_?"

"Yeah," Steve confirmed.

The silence that fell over them as Bucky returned his gaze to the street was unusual. Nothing like what Steve had assumed and had nightmares over. No, this was definitely different than those. In those, Dream Bucky would lead the mob with pitch forks as they took Steve and his family to the forest where they would tie them up and set them on fire. And not that Steve wanted that to happen, it was just not what Steve had feared.

"Stevie, not to sound like an insensitive ass, but I think you might've hit your head back there."

"I didn't," Steve argued.

Only, he didn't have to try and convince Bucky for long as the clouds started to clear and the wind settled. Steve smugly smirked over at Bucky, who looked over at Steve in shock.

Bucky's brows remained high on his forehead as he pulled into his driveway. Steve kept his smug smirk, until he realized that he should probably explain himself and the way the world was. Which could be a bit of a shock. Especially when you grow up in a world that only shows half of what it's really like.

However, they didn't have the time now. Now, they needed to get rid of the dybbuk and keep everyone safe. So, instead of sitting in Bucky's hand-me-down truck, the pair headed for the house.

Although Steve had lessened the storm, it didn't mean that it was over. The house was dark and eerie as they crossed the porch and entered the home. Only then did Steve wish that they hadn't.

With furniture overturned and black smoke billowing out from the kitchen, Steve knew that they were too late to keep everyone safe in the Barnes' home. Still, Bucky called out, "Mom? Dad? Ted?"

Steve's chest clenched, "They're not here."

Turning around to face Steve, Bucky's eyes were glassy with unshed tears, and he helplessly asked, "Where do we go now?"

Nightmares and sleep-wandering episodes flashed through Steve's mind like a montage. He knew where they had to go. And he hated it. Gathering all the evidence from his apparent prophecies, and mustering up all the strength that he could, Steve concluded, "Out by Stark Orchards."

Swallowing thickly, Bucky nodded, "What's there?"

Remembering the ghost stories that kids shared at sleepovers and around bonfires, Steve answered, "Sunny Meadows Asylum."


	60. Sixty

**Sixty:**

Leaving the Barnes' home, the pair headed back over to the dark green truck. Steve took out his phone and started calling his family for reinforcement. Only, none of the calls were going through. He pulled the phone away from his face to check if the phone was working and informed, "I don't know what's going on. It's not letting me call them."

"Well, maybe try calling someone else?" Bucky offered, climbing into his truck and pulling out his own phone. "Try calling me."

So, Steve did. He started calling Bucky's phone. However, as it started ringing, Bucky felt all the air being knocked out of him. Feeling as though he was being pulled backward with no one there to catch him, Bucky's vision turned tunnel as he kept his gaze on the steering wheel while the tunnel stretched and the wheel grew smaller. Blacking out, Bucky briefly wondered if this was what Steve felt whenever he had an asthma attack.

When he came to though, Bucky realized that he wasn't where he had been. No longer sitting beside Steve. No longer sitting in his truck. No longer sitting at his house. No, instead of where he had been -- where he should've been -- he was strapped to a chair while a bright light bore down on him.

Groggily, Bucky lifted his heavy head to look around his surroundings. Except, the light was so bright that Bucky found it hard to see anything beyond that. As his eyes adjusted, his stomach dropped and his breath caught in his throat. Every ghost hunting show that Bucky watched in his free-time swam to his mind as he looked over the old, decrepit room. Knowing with every ounce of his being that he was at the abandoned, supposedly haunted, Sunny Meadows Asylum.

"Fuck," Bucky muttered to himself, letting his head fall back against the chair. Sure, they were planning on heading to the abandoned asylum anyway. But being strapped to a chair didn't exactly lend any help to exorcising Teddy and protecting their loved ones.

Then, Bucky realized that Steve wasn't in the room with him. Where was Steve? Did they take him? Was he okay? _Oh, god_, Bucky suddenly became alert, _what if he can't breathe?_ With how dingy and dirty the room he was being held in was, there was no way that Steve would be able to breathe. _He has asthma, for crying out loud!_

Not knowing where he was or how he was going to get out, but Bucky knew that he had to at least try. So, he continued to struggle against the thick, leather straps that were confining him to the old, uncomfortable chair.

"There's no use for you to struggle, bengel," a man with a vague European accent tsked.

Bucky's head snapped over to the doorway where he found a petite man with circle glasses and a crisp white lab coat. Just looking at him sent a chill down Bucky's spine. Clearing his extremely dry throat, Bucky rasped, "Where's Steve?"

"You don't need to worry about him," the man took a few steps closer into the room as he observed Bucky. Conversationally, he started, "I told them not to worry about you, a filthy mortal; Steven would choose his terrigenesis soon enough. But the High Priest is convinced that young Steven will cross us. Expose us. Destroy us. That he will do anything to make sure you're safe. Guess we'll find out soon enough who's right."

"Dr. Zola," another man sternly reprimanded as he joined them. This one better dressed in a velvet suit jacket and a silk ascot elegantly peeking out from his open ruffled shirt.

"High Priest," Zola greeted, slightly bowing in a show of respect as he did so.

"As much as I enjoy tormenting a mortal -- especially one with such a dirty lineage -- now's not the time," the High Priest reminded. Quirking an eyebrow that even made Bucky think twice about opening his mouth. Especially once he turned his gaze to Bucky.

It didn't go unnoticed on Bucky's part when the flicker of disgust flashed across the High Priest's face. Bucky hated him and his prejudice. Finding it absolutely disgusting to have such hatred, and to be so small-minded in today's day and age. And what Bucky hated the most was that they were going to hurt Steve.

Clenching his jaw tightly, Bucky fought back all the things he wanted to say. Although not fully aware of what was going to happen, there was a level that Bucky understood whatever he said would be taken out on Steve. And there was no way that Bucky would cause more harm to him than he already unwittingly was. No, Bucky was a smart boy, and he knew that if he was going to save Steve, he needed to be smart about it.


	61. Sixty-One

**Sixty-One:**

One minute, Bucky was there. The next, he was gone. Steve sat there, shocked for a moment. He knew that _he_ hadn't been the one to transport Bucky. Sure, Steve was well-versed in some magic, but he was nowhere near as experienced to pull off a successful transportation. Especially not on another person, mortal or inhuman.

Luckily, the shock wore off after another minute, and Steve started putting a plan together. Sliding along the bench seat until he was in front of the wheel, Steve decided to break the law a little. Steve _did_ have his permit, but his Uncle Loki had been more invested in Steve's magical teaching rather than him getting his license any time soon. After all, if he was shipped away to the academy full-time, there'd be no reason for him to drive anywhere.

Now though, he had a very good reason to drive. So, moving the seat forward until he could comfortably reach the peddles, Steve attempted to get his heart to stop racing. Checking and adjusting the mirrors, Steve started the truck and sighed in relief that it actually started to begin with. With how everything else was going, Steve considered that a small win.

More cautiously than probably necessary, Steve backed out of the driveway. Thankful that the route to his home was ingrained so deeply into his very being that he could concentrate fully on his driving. Which he really should've been practicing more considering how much his hands shook.

Of course, that could've been attributed to how his boyfriend was just _ripped through time and space to Alveus knows where!_

Steve needed to calm down. Taking in a deep breath, he was aware that it was entirely too quiet. Music would help. Music always helped, right? Yet, Steve didn't want to remove his hand from the steering wheel. And since he was already breaking both Witch and Mortal Law, he chose to break his own rules and used his powers to turn on the radio.

Choosing to focus on the lyrics and rhythm of the alternative song, all the while his heart beating so harshly in his chest that he thought he might have a heart attack. Steve started mapping out a plan.

Step one: Get home  
Step two: Find his family  
Step three: Alert them to what was going on (quickly!)  
Step four: Go to Sunny Meadows Asylum  
Step five: Save his friends

_At all costs_, Steve decided, _Whatever it takes_.

Pulling into the driveway to his own home, Steve parked right in front of the house. Not concerned if customers were able to enter and exit since it was Sunday, and _Nine Realms Antiques_ was closed. Cutting the engine, Steve left the truck door open as he raced up the porch steps to his house.

Steve's lungs were begging for air by the time that he actually made it inside. But the little relief that he had felt instantly left him. Unlike the Barnes' home, however, nothing seemed out of place. No furniture overturned. No food burning.

Instead, there was an unsettling calmness to the Odinson home.

Assuming that his uncles were still out of the house, Steve called out, "Hildy?"

Waiting for half a second, Steve headed for the elevator instead of taking the stairs up to the attic apartment that was Hildy's domain. Steve really didn't have any patience for stairs and the potential of an asthma attack. Just knowing that he had to get to the top of their house in the quickest way possible. Knowing that if she was anywhere, it was up there. Momentarily hoping that Carol wasn't with his cousin getting up to shenanigans that Steve really had no business in witnessing. But only momentarily. Because, while still not wanting to catch Hildy in a, "compromising position," -- as Loki would put it -- Steve knew that Carol could be a big help.

Steve was all too aware that he was going to need all the help he could get. Positive that even if Steve was more experienced, he'd still ask them for help. After all, who knew how many of his loved ones were transported away thanks to some malicious spirit. Steve was more than willing than to accept all the help he could get.

Once the elevator stopped at the attic, Steve paused. Still not wanting to walk in on his cousin hooking up with Carol. However, this was something that needed to happen. Steve needed to save his friends.

"Hil?" Steve called out as the doors opened.

The same quiet-calm that marinated the first floor, was splashed across the apartment too. And Steve was not okay with it. Feeling his heart climbing up into his throat, Steve had never felt more alone in his life than he did in that moment.

Especially after Steve traveled from one room to another, only to find that it was empty. The whole house was empty. Steve was left all --

"Goose!" Steve quickly reminded himself. Flerkens were protectors! And Steve's household happened to have two!

Rushing down the stairs to his bedroom, Steve called out, "Goose! Tutti!"

Expecting to get meows in reply, Steve quickly entered his bedroom and skidded to a stop. There, on his bed, laid two lifeless flerkens. His mind already going to the worst place, but his body not wanting to believe until he touched them.

Tears building in his eyes, Steve crossed the room with his outstretched arm. Hesitantly, Steve finally allowed his fingers to brush the soft fur. Their tiny bodies unmoving, confirmed one of many things that Steve wished weren't true today.

Although Steve wanted nothing more than to breakdown, he couldn't. Steve had a whole lot of people to save. He didn't even know how many of his loved ones were in danger, so he decided to consider them all to be in danger. Steve knew one thing: he was going to do whatever it took to save them.


	62. Sixty-Two

**Sixty-Two:**

The drive to the abandoned asylum took less time than Steve had anticipated. When he arrived, he was determined. More determined than he assumed he would be. Of course, Steve had a plan. Well, the skeleton of a plan. Really only knowing that he was going to do anything and everything to save his loved ones.

Narrowing his eyes up at the intimidating stone building, Steve climbed up the cement steps. Wondering if Sunny Meadows had ever been cheery and comforting. Considering the practices in its hay-day, Steve doubted it. Even with the old photos of beautiful flower beds and extravagant courtyards, Steve couldn't see the beauty that it had once held. Even less so now. Now all Steve could see was pain.

Much like in his nightmare, Steve paused just outside of the door. Faded, rusted red instead of the vibrant fresh-blood red from his dreams. Racing heart, Steve placed his hands on the dirty door. Pausing for a moment, Steve tried to convince himself that this wasn't his dream.

However, Steve hesitated for just a moment. Bucky's words rang in his head, because, yes, this was definitely a trap. There was no way to see around it. This was an intricate trap that was specifically for Steve. And with that realization, Steve knew that it wasn't the dybbuk. It was Hydra.

In a fury that Steve had never known before, Steve fiercely pushed the door open. Allowing it to slam shut on its own accord, Steve spotted the blood stain on the floor. Although, the tiles weren't as clean as they had been in his dream. Realizing now that it wasn't a dream. Never had been. It was a prophecy all along.

Sprinting down the hallway, Steve ignored the way his lungs begged for air and how his muscles burned. Following the dry trail around corner after corner, Steve skidded to a stop. There, standing in front of the door that led to the basement was the one boy that he knew almost as well as he knew Bucky.

"Teddy," Steve breathlessly greeted, making sure to keep as much distance between them as possible.

"You know that's not my name," the boy -- correction, dybbuk -- challenged.

"Well," Steve scoffed, feigning light-heartedness, "Since I don't know your name, I was trying not to be rude."

"Azazel is the name. You and I should be friends," he prompted, "I was friends with your father, after all."

Out of all the things that Steve wasn't expecting today, that was definitely in the top five. Briefly letting his guard down, Steve's brows furrowed as he questioned, "You knew my dad?"

"Know," Azazel corrected. While Steve's mind swirled with this new piece of information, Azazel smirked, "I must admit, it is ironic."

Blinking away his confusion, Steve asked, "How so?"

"Two Jewish brothers unlocking and housing the very entity that spurred the war and suffering on their people. The very being that planted the seed and watered it until it grew into genocide," Azazel answered. Watching Steve like a buzzard, he continued, "Ironic that one of the most powerful sons has stooped to the level of --"

"Now I can see why you were locked up," Steve muttered, momentarily resting his hands on his thighs as he gathered his strength. Silently thanking Great Aunt Peggy for, not only fighting in World War II, but for apparently banishing the dybbuk that pioneered the Holocaust.

Azazel narrowed his eyes at Steve, and suddenly, Steve was thrown across the room. Harshly, Steve's back slammed against the wall. Nearly bouncing from the force, Steve dropped to the floor. All the while, regretting everything in his life. Well, maybe not everything. Loving Bucky and being loved by Bucky was pretty spectacular. Everything else though sucked major ass. Especially the fact that his body wasn't even healed from the last time some asshole flung him across the room.

"Hive the Terrible," Steve said his name in vain as he coughed. Spotting red tinting his saliva. Steve groaned; half at the concept of coughing up blood, half at the pain.

"Tsk-tsk," Azazel mocked. Kicking at Steve's back, knocking him back down to the tile floor. Cruel as he stated the obvious, "You're an idiot, ya know. You have the power and the potential to be the greatest enhanced being we've ever seen. Yet, you choose to rot away in your mortal body."

"_Alveus_ \--"

"You _dare_ take His name in --"

"Do you even hear yourself?" Steve attempted to push himself up, but his arms were too weak, and he fell again. "You and everyone else is so concerned with my potential. Well, eat my ass! No one ever thought about what I wanted! No one even thought to ask what --"

"You insufferable, ungrateful brat!" A force picked Steve up and tossed him against another wall. Azazel informed, "It is your _destiny_! Your mother sacrificed _everything_ for you, and this is how you repay her?!"

Coughing again, Steve managed to sit himself upright against the wall. Quickly losing his strength, Steve was only able to sit there and watch as Azazel approached. With a gait different than the one that Teddy normally had, just seemed all the more odd to witness his body use. Especially when it strolled over to Steve.

Crouching in front of Steve, Azazel taunted, "Your body is dying. And frankly, you bore me. But your pal, your buddy, your Bucky? He's right downstairs, and I'm sure going to have fun ripping him to pieces from the inside out. Too bad you won't be around to see it. His torture is going to be glorious."

Standing again, Azazel gave an evil smirk, "This is going to be fun."

Then, like a rag doll, Teddy's body dropped to the floor. Through the blinding pain in Steve's head and through the ache in the rest of his body, it was easy for Steve to understand that Azazel was no longer in Teddy's body. And Azazel's threat was more apparent and serious in that moment. He was going after Bucky. And that just wouldn't do.

Falling onto his side, Steve weakly dragged himself along the dirty floor until he reached Teddy's still body. Placing a hand on Teddy's neck, Steve let out a sigh of relief when he found Teddy's pulse and that he was breathing. That would've just been the icing on the cake, if he had died.

Letting himself rest for a moment, Steve knew what he had to do. It just happened to also be the one thing that he didn't want to do.


	63. Sixty-Three

**Sixty-Three:**

On Steve's third attempt at standing, he weakly fell back to the ground for the last time. Despite himself, tears started spilling from his eyes. Everything hurt and Steve knew that Azazel's words were true: his mortal body was dying. But Steve refused to let Bucky die because his body was unreliable. Steve's body might have been giving up, but his mind refused to do so. And although he was already dying, he'd rather die than let Bucky die.

There was only one thing that Steve could do. Since he couldn't move, he rolled onto his broken and bruised back. Staring up at the ceiling, Steve's lips trembled. Never in a million years did Steve think that he'd be here, getting ready to pray to the Hydra God. Yet…

"Dear God, The Great Alveus, feel my suffering and hear my plea," Steve started. Taking in a shaky breath, "Though I have been selfish, and don't deserve it. I beg for your forgiveness. I beg for your help, so that I can better… so that I can… better… serve you."

Closing his eyes, Steve hoped that Alveus would be listening. That Hive the Terrible would help him. Although Steve wanted nothing more than to live the rest of his life as a mortal, he knew that he'd never be able to help them if he died. And he'd never be able to forgive himself if he didn't do everything in his power to save them.

"Steve?" A deep, groggy voice rasped out.

Opening his eyes, Steve turned to find Teddy. Teddy was sitting up, looking about as confused as Steve expected him to be. But at least it was actually Teddy. It was Teddy and he was confused, but as he looked over Steve, his confusion turned to concern.

"Steve?" Teddy repeated, stumbling on his way over to Steve.

Attempting to sit up, Steve grabbed at his side in pain. Knowing that he had internal bleeding. _As if coughing up blood wasn't as much of a sign as any_. Thankfully, Teddy was there. Realizing that just like people said, Alveus worked in mysterious ways.

"What happened?" Teddy asked.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Steve attempted to joke, but the pain was too severe for the ghost of humor to fully take.

"I'm not gonna lie, Stevie," Teddy heaved Steve off the ground. While Steve groaned in pain at the movement, Teddy continued, "You've seen better days, my dude."

Weakly, Steve smiled up at the boy who he idolized growing up. The big brother that he always wished to have, and thanks to Bucky, kind of did have. _Bucky_. Steve's stomach twisted and knotted in his agony. Steve knew that he needed to save Bucky and Sharon and everyone else that was being hurt by Hydra's sick, twisted game.

"We gotta get out of here," Steve urged. Leaning most of his weight on Teddy's sturdy frame, Steve was adamant, "There's something I gotta do."

"Sure," Teddy nodded and started following Steve's directions of leaving the abandoned asylum. Looking down at the ground and noticing the trail of dark, dried blood on the tile floor, Teddy asked, "Jesus, what happened here? Is that yours?"

"It's not mine," Steve reassured before doubling over. Either from the pain or the taste of blood. Whatever it was, bile rose and left Steve's petite frame. Thankfully, Teddy was there and he held Steve upright while comfortingly rubbing his back.

Feigning playfulness, Teddy teased, "You sure it's not yours?"

Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, Steve stood again. Even more weak than he had been as they started walking again. Of course, it wasn't his. And although Steve knew it was too old to be Bucky's blood, Steve knew that it still led the way to Bucky.

"C'mon," Steve used more of his energy to tug at Teddy, so he'd move.

Stumbling a bit still while trying to keep himself and Steve upright, Teddy led them out the front door. Steve was surprised to find that they weren't locked inside. Also finding it suspicious, Steve reasoned that this was exactly what they wanted. They'd be stupid to make them work harder to leave than they already had.

Spotting his old truck that he passed down to his brother, Teddy asked, "Where's Buck?"

Chest clenching, Steve lied, "I don't know. But I know how to help."

"I sure don't like the sound of that," Teddy admitted, opening the passenger door for Steve. Rushing around to the driver's side, Teddy started the truck and looked over at Steve, "Just tell me what to do."


	64. Sixty-Four

**Sixty-Four:**

"Uh, Steve?" Teddy questioned, stopping the truck out front of the academy gates, "Where the hell are we?"

"My new school," Steve answered with a sigh. Leaning forward, Steve's brows furrowed. There wasn't a guard like there had been over the weekend. Solidifying to Steve that this was a trap, capital T, Trap. Grinding his teeth, Steve gestured for Teddy to continue through the open entrance.

So, Teddy did. He followed the drive at a speed much faster than Loki had taken, and parked right in front of the main entrance. Cutting the engine, Teddy didn't need Steve to direct him much further. Working on instinct, Teddy rushed around to the passenger side, and held most of Steve's weight as they started heading up the steps.

Once inside, Teddy paused. Looking over the giant metal sculpture of tentacles extending from a skull. Swallowing thickly, Teddy quietly asked, "Thought you were going to some fancy art school."

"Sure am," Steve deadpanned, "Can't you appreciate fine art when you see it."

"Ha," Teddy sarcastically stated, resituating Steve's body, so he could more comfortably hold his weight. Looking from one side to the other, Teddy prompted, "Where to?"

Closing his eyes, Steve allowed his intuition to guide him. After all, he could feel the energy rippling through the air. It was strong and undeniably intoxicating. So much so that Steve wondered if Teddy could feel it.

Opening his eyes, Steve gestured to the left, "We need to get to the lower level."

Teddy nodded and started following Steve's directions. As they reached the staircase, Teddy hesitated, "I hate to be _that_ guy, but this seems like a bad idea."

"Trust me," Steve sighed, "I don't want to do this either. But this is all we've got. This is what I have to do."

"Damn," Teddy begrudgingly pushed open the door mostly carried Steve down the staircase to the lower level.

Outside of the floor was a sign that read: _Transformation Wing_. Steve swallowed around the lump forming in his throat and he grabbed the doorknob. _Whatever it takes_, Steve kept internally repeating as he pushed the door open. Nearly toppling out of Teddy's grasp in his haste.

Teddy adjusted Steve's body and made sure that he wouldn't fall to the floor. Then, he practically dragged Steve along the floor down the hallway. Well, until Steve abruptly told him, "Stop," outside of one of the rooms.

"What?" Teddy questioned, alarmed.

Steve looked into the room with the open door. Sad in his realization. The room was meant for him. Sure, it didn't have his name; just a simple, _Room 4_, but Steve knew. Steve knew that it was his. That this was the plan. Not to listen to Steve and what he wanted. But to use his loved ones until he agreed to have his terrigenesis.

A hysterical chuckle ripped through Steve as he pulled away from Teddy. Falling into the wall, Steve started walking into the room. Teddy started to follow, but Steve shook his head, "You can't."

"I can't just leave you here," Teddy said, looking around and noting how eerie it was that they were all alone.

"You can," Steve reassured. Leaning against the doorframe from inside of the room, Steve fiercely told him, "You need to leave. Go sit in the truck. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Steve --"

"I'll be okay," Steve assured, even though he didn't know if it was true. All Steve knew was that Teddy wasn't safe inside the academy. So, Steve insisted, "Go. I'll be out as soon as I can."

As Steve closed the door, Teddy asked, "What are you going to do."

Turning to face the room, the overhead lights turned on. Illuminating the sterile, lightly furnished room. It reminded Steve of a hospital room, and his skin crawled at the thought that someone was probably watching him. But he needed to do this. Clearly, Hydra wasn't going to play fair.

Over his shoulder, Steve called out, "You need to go. I'll be alright."

And for once, Steve was glad that it was Teddy instead of Bucky. Because Bucky would've argued. Teddy though? Teddy simply took his order and raced back upstairs.

Steve looked over the cot along one wall, and the desk along the other. Heart stuttering, Steve's gaze lingered on the ancient book. _The_ book. _His_ book. Beside it laid a pristine knife, a quill pen, and a glass container of terrigen crystals.

Tears started streaming down his face as he hobbled over to the desk. Whatever it took to protect his flerkens. Whatever it took to protect his family. To protect his friends. To protect his Bucky. That was what Steve was going to do. Even if that meant signing away his life.

Picking up the knife, Steve's hands shook as he pointed the blade at his hand. Deciding that he wouldn't go the dramatic, traditional path, Steve pricked his index finger. Letting out a gasp from the surprise rather than the pain. Not too deep just enough for the blood to bubble up and drop onto the book.

Exchanging the knife for the pen, Steve hesitated. If he signed his name in Alveus's book, he belonged to him. He'd be another Hive mind. He'd lose his free will, and would be at Hydra's beck and call.

But he had to do it.

So, dipping the quill in his blood, he signed his full, legal name: Steven Grant Rogers.

A surge of energy rushed into Steve as soon as he dropped the quill. Tears still fell from his eyes, but Steve wasn't exactly sure why. As the pain seemed to ease, Steve took in a deep breath of relief. For the first time, his lungs actually did as they were meant to.

_See? Isn't this so much better?_ A familiar, musical voice beckoned. Instantly, Steve knew that it was Alveus, and for some reason, he didn't feel afraid.

_No turning back now_, Steve reasoned with himself. Reaching for the decorative knob on the glass container, Steve carefully pulled the lid off. As soon as the terrigen crystals were exposed to the air, a mist formed. It flowed through the room like the magic it was and surrounded Steve. Forming a protective stone-like cocoon, Steve could already feel the terrigenesis taking place.


	65. Sixty-Five

**Sixty-Five:**

It felt like a sauna, Steve decided. Hot and steamy as the cocoon fully formed around his body. Only once it was solid did Steve remember that he was claustrophobic. A fact that meant nothing now. Even if Steve could feel his heart racing rapidly in his chest as though it was determined to burst right out of his chest. Then, it felt like it had.

A searing, blinding pain shot right through his heart. Feeling as though a spear had pierced right through his cocoon and directly into his organ. More tears fell down his face at the pain. Heart stuttering and beating out of its normal rhythm. Was his heart… growing?

_"Don't be such a Grinch," Bucky playfully pouted. Thirteen years old, Steve wanted nothing more than to nibble on Bucky's lower lip. Wondering what he tasted like. Especially when Bucky opened another blue raspberry candy cane and popped it in his mouth._

_Blushing, Steve ducked his head. Bucky was his best friend, he wasn't supposed to think about him like that. Pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, Steve scoffed, "You don't even celebrate Christmas. What difference does it make if I wear an ugly sweater?"_

_"Because it's fun," Bucky wiggled his eyebrows, teasing a smile out of Steve. Armed with a hot glue gun, Bucky leaned back over the sweater that he was working on. Unlike the sweater meant for himself, Bucky glued pom poms around the collar of Steve's sweater instead of the tinsel._

_Sitting up, Bucky examined his work. His gaze was appreciative and he nodded approvingly at the sweater. Telling Steve, "You're gonna look real cute in this."_

Steve's breath hitched as another spear of pain pierced through his lungs. Even though he had just gotten the sensation of fully filling his lungs with air, he had already grown attached to it. Now, he didn't know how to handle it. How was he supposed to breath? How had he done so before? He needed --

_"Breathe," Bucky encouraged, holding Steve's inhaler in one hand and the back of Steve's neck with the other._

_With his mouth wrapped around the device, he inhaled when Bucky pushed the button down. A puff of medication hit the back of his throat, but Steve couldn't breathe. He wanted to yell at Bucky that he couldn't breathe because of him. But he couldn't get enough air into his lungs to make any sound but a wheeze._

_"You're okay," Bucky reassured, once Steve took in a shaky breath. Bucky smoothed his hand down Steve's back, comforting him the way that Steve had always wished he would. At fourteen, Steve hadn't expected dating Bucky to be so encompassing._

Not just his heart and his lungs, but pain rippled down his back. Excruciatingly straightening his scoliosis riddled spine. Steve could feel his body stretching like clay as his metamorphosis finally set in. Gaining inches to his height and broadness to his shoulders.

But it didn't stop there.

Although he was aching and in agony, there was an underlying euphoria that started coating his body. Stretching taut over his skin and burrowing deep into his forming muscles. Pleasure started taking place of his suffering, just like a caress.

_Bucky's large hands stroked up Steve's frail frame, setting fire to him. Steve had never experienced such strong pleasure before in his life. Feeling Bucky's lips on his skin and having Bucky's strong arms holding him close. Steve felt alive. Knowing that he was put on this Earth to love --_

_Bucky_, was the name on his mind. It was only ever Bucky.

Power marinated his bones. Real power. Power and strength that Steve had never known before coursed through his veins. Steve knew that it was time. His time. And he'd be damned if he didn't use this new brawn to help his loved ones.

So, Steve did just that.

It started with tingles. Pins and needles that replaced the numbness that had taken over his body. Something familiar, like after a limb fell asleep and was trying to wake up. That's what Steve felt like. As though he was finally waking up after being numb for so long.

The sensation grew more and more until there was nowhere else for it to go, but out. Pushing the energy outward, the cocoon started to shake. Rattling from the sheer power vibrating from Steve, the stone-like shell began to crack. All it needed was an extra push.

Concentrating on getting out and saving the people he cared the most about, Steve flexed his abilities like a rubber band, until it finally broke the cocoon. However, Steve hadn't expected the amount of energy that he had building inside of him and he tumbled forward.

Off balance, Steve's knee slammed into the pristine tiles while his elbow smacked against the edge of the desk. In pain, Steve took in a sharp breath through his teeth and cursed, "Fuck."

Rubbing at his bruised funny bone, Steve noticed the new bulge to his arms. How long his legs were now. The way his sweater was still ill-fitting, just not the way that it had been before. It took Steve a moment to realize that his clothes were too small. Of course, he probably would've been able to notice that earlier, if his sight wasn't so blurry.

Looking around, Steve expected to find his glasses on the floor. Only, he hadn't taken his glasses off to begin with. Reaching up, Steve felt his glasses were still on his face. Eyes widening, Steve removed his glasses. For the first time in his entire life, not needing them.

Perhaps Steve would've freaked out a bit more, but Steve had no time to waste. Standing too quickly, Steve swayed in his lightheadedness. Thankfully, he recovered faster than normal, and he started for the door.

Ripping the door off the hinges, Steve winced and leaned the door up against the wall before racing down the hallway. Moving faster than he ever had in his life, without even feeling the slightest bit winded. Sure, Steve knew that a terrigenesis bestowed health and power. But he had no idea just how amazing he would --

_Not the time_, Steve reminded himself, taking the stairs two at a time.

Racing right out the door, Steve jumped the concrete steps entirely, and nearly hit the truck in his haste. Skidding to a stop, Steve knocked his knee on the passenger door, startling Teddy.

Wide eyed and slack jawed, Teddy stared at Steve as he climbed into the passenger seat. When Teddy didn't start the engine, Steve looked over at him and encouraged, "C'mon, let's go."

"Steve?!" Teddy questioned, his eyes widening even more as though now he recognized the near-Adonis boy sitting in the cab of the truck beside him. Still shocked, he asked, "What the hell happened to you?"

Steve looked down at his lap and blew out his breath in a puff, "You wouldn't believe me, if I told you."

When Teddy made no move to start driving, Steve looked over and ordered, "C'mon, let's go! We don't have time to just sit around!"

"Right," Teddy agreed, facing the front and finally starting the truck.


	66. Sixty-Six

**Sixty-Six:**

Bucky figured that this was about as out-of-body as he was going to get with a dybbuk possessing him. And even then, he wasn’t as far away as he would’ve liked. Especially not with the malicious spirit using his body to attack one of his best friends, Sam. Currently, his legs were straddling Sam’s muscular thighs while he bashed his face in.

If it was possible for Bucky to look through his fingers, he would. It would’ve been better than feeling as though his eyelids were nailed open as he was forced to watch the blood splatter across Sam’s face like a Jackson Pollock painting.

Honestly, anything would’ve been better than this. Even if the roles were reversed and Bucky was the one getting beat from within an inch of his life.

Anything would've been better than this.

Bucky couldn't even fight against the entity. It was too powerful. But he couldn't just sit there and do nothing. So, Bucky attempted to wiggle his toes. Just hoping to feel something that was his being controlled by himself. For a moment, Bucky was positive that he had moved his toes.

Working even harder, Bucky tapped his foot against the ground. Only, his hands were doing the most harm, and he didn't have control over them. His hands were being completely controlled by the dybbuk. And the dybbuk was using Bucky's hands exactly how he wanted to. To harm Sam.

Out of his control, Bucky's fingers wrapped around the thick girth of Sam's neck, and closed. Squeezing so tightly, that a bloodied and beaten Sam writhed and scratched at Bucky's hands in hopes of getting him to stop. However, the more Sam fought, the tighter Bucky held.

"Please," Bucky begged, even though his mouth didn't move.

Of course, that only spurred the dybbuk more. A frightening laugh tore from Bucky's mouth. Growing hysterical as an audible crack could be heard, causing Sam's eyes going wide in fear as he struggled even more.

Sam's blunt nails dug into Bucky's hands, hoping that would get them off his neck. Hoping to get a breath in. Unfortunately, nothing was working. If anything, it made Bucky's grip more secure, even though Sam was fighting for his chance.

Bucky's body leaned forward, and using Bucky's voice, the dybbuk informed right in Sam's ear, "If I had a knife, I'd slit your throat and bathe in your blood."

_Christ on a cracker_, Bucky thought as his body moved back. Feeling the corners of his lips quirk up into a wicked grin that frightened Sam. Bucky could see in his eyes that he was scared.

Fighting even more in the prison of his body, Bucky's fingers wiggled. _Yes!_ Bucky rejoiced and concentrated even more. But he wasn't able to do anything further. The most that happened was the way his muscles shook under his skin as the dybbuk fought against Bucky's control.

Then, Sam stopped moving under him.

_No_, Bucky denied, fighting his own body. Bucky's chest heaved aggressively as his breaths came as pants. He continued sitting on Sam, but removed his hands. And although Bucky tried to move himself off, so he could perform CPR on one of his best friend's, he wasn't able to. Bucky couldn't even close his own eyes to stop from staring down at his lifeless friend. The dybbuk wouldn't let him, and forced his eyelids up. The only thing that Bucky could do was cry.

While tears fell down his face, the dybbuk grew bored. And Bucky knew that was a bad sign. Especially when his body turned without his control and looked over at Sharon. Just like he and Sam had been, she was bound to an old chair. Something that reminded Bucky of a dentist chair.

With that single thought, spurred the dybbuk onto his next torture. Wicked grin, the entity used Bucky's hands to pry Sharon's mouth open. Sharon, like the fighter she was, tried her hardest to fight back the best that she could while still being restrained.

Biting at Bucky's hands only made the demon laugh though, and Bucky feared what he'd do in retaliation. Sure enough, his hands were used against his will to pull at one of Sharon's back molars. Using strength that Bucky didn't know his body had, the dybbuk managed to remove the tooth entirely.

Bucky was sure that the sounds of Sharon's screams of agony would haunt him for the rest of his life. The way that her body twitched in her suffering would forever be ingrained on the back of his retina. Just like the warmth of her blood and the rusty smell.

As Bucky's body moved towards his mom, Bucky sobbed. He didn't want to hurt anyone. He didn't want to kill Sam. He didn't want to torture Sharon. And he sure as hell didn't want to hurt his mom.

Especially not when she pleaded, "James Buchanan Barnes, remember who you are."

Bucky's lower lip quivered. For a moment, Bucky was in control of his body. Quickly, Bucky stumbled over to Winifred, tripping over his own feet and tumbling into her chair. With shaky hands he started to undo the thick leather straps holding her in place.

Winifred pulled Bucky into a hug. However, that was precisely when the dybbuk took over and started strangling her. At least the dybbuk was nice enough to let Bucky apologize. Tears streaming over his high cheekbones as he sobbed, "I'm so sorry, mom."

"I… know… baby…" Winifred conceded in between her gasps of breath.

"I'm sor--"

"Buck!" A deep familiar voice called out.

Bucky knew immediately who it belonged to. He tried to reply, "Teddy," but the dybbuk paid him no attention.

Then, the voice he wanted to fall asleep to forever, corrected, "Azazel."

At that, the dybbuk whirled around so quickly that Bucky felt sick. Fearing for what the dybbuk, Azazel, would do to Steve, Bucky tried to close his eyes. Hoping that if he could keep Azazel from seeing Steve, he could protect him. But, just like before, his eyelids were forced open. And Bucky couldn't believe what his eyes saw.

There, towering beside Teddy, was Steve. Such a different Steve that Bucky was sure he was mistaking the tall, muscular boy. But Bucky would recognize those sky blue eyes anywhere. Even if he hardly recognized anything else.

Crossing the short distance between them, Azazel reached up and cupped Steve's newly chiseled jaw. Companionably, Azazel patted Steve's cheek and pinched the flawless skin there, while Bucky could only stare at him.

"You'll make us all so proud," Azazel praised.

Steve's eyes narrowed and he grabbed Bucky's wrist. Even with the dybbuk controlling his body, Bucky shivered just from Steve's warm hand on him. Sure, he wasn't used to this new packaging, but Bucky was sure that it was the same boy that he loved on the inside.

Not moving his gaze from Bucky, Steve ordered, "Teddy. The box."

Inside of Bucky, two feelings coincided. Relief from Bucky, and fear from Azazel. It was such a shift that Bucky regained some of his control over his own body and he tearfully defended himself, "I didn't mean to do it. I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean --"

"Shh," Steve soothed, using his free hand to wipe the tears flowing from Bucky's eyes, "I know. It's gonna be okay. I promise."

And if Steve promised something, it was going to happen. That had always been an everlasting truth in Bucky's world. Steve promised that things were going to be okay, so things were going to be okay.

Then, Steve pressed a coin to Bucky's forehead. Oddly, it burned. It burned a lot. Such a searing heat that a tormented howl ripped through Bucky's frame. Knowing that it wasn't from him, it was from the dybbuk. In a language that Bucky couldn't decipher, Steve mumbled in a voice low enough that only he could hear, but it wasn't for him. It was for the dybbuk. And the dybbuk was fighting back.

The more that Azazel fought, the more Steve did too. Dropping Bucky's wrist, Steve pressed another coin to the back of Bucky's neck. The pain became so much that Bucky slipped away. Only vaguely aware of a loud bang of wine cabinet doors being slammed shut and strong arms catching him before he hit the ground.


	67. Sixty-Seven

**Sixty-Seven:**

Slowly, Bucky came back to himself. Starting with fingers gently carding through his hair, soothing him. The images that flashed through his mind twisted his stomach. Luckily, they were just a nightmare. Right? There was no way that Bucky had _actually_ done those things. It just didn't make any sense. There was simply no way to explain it, other than to call it a nightmare. The way that his loved ones looked at him when he did all those awful --

"You're thinking too much," Steve whispered and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

In relief, Bucky sighed. Realizing that he was cuddling Steve, Bucky nuzzled even closer. Burying his face into Steve's chest, Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve's slender frame. Only, it wasn't _right_.

Brows furrowing even more, Bucky pulled back. Opening his eyes, Bucky squinted against the dim light and suspiciously at his boyfriend. Frankly, there was no way that Steve should look the way he currently did. It just didn't compute with what Bucky knew about the universe and how things worked.

"I'm still dreaming," Bucky groggily assumed. Drooping back into his cozy bed, Bucky allowed himself to snuggle up to this version of the love of his life. The version that Steve had always wanted to be.

"You're not dreaming," Steve corrected. His hand pausing from running his fingers comfortingly through Bucky's messy hair. Swallowing thickly, Steve hesitated for a moment before starting, "Buck? We… gotta talk."

At that any fatigue that remained disappeared entirely. _We gotta talk,_ was one of the worst phrases in Bucky's opinion. It never led to anything good. Well, except for the time that Bucky admitted his feelings for Steve to the boy, himself. But this was different. It was all in Steve's tone.

Sitting up, Bucky kept his gaze leveled with Steve's and repeated, "We gotta talk?"

Steve nodded his confirmation, causing Bucky's mind to spiral. What could he need to talk about? Flashes of what Bucky thought was a nightmare developed in his mind. Like polaroid snapshots of the worst things Bucky could ever imagine.

Remorsefully, Bucky reasoned, "Because of… because of… what I, uh… did…?"

"No," Steve quickly reassured. Cupping Bucky's face in his large hand, Bucky took comfort in knowing that at least Steve's hands were still the same as they had been. Now they just fit the rest of his body. Steve stroked Bucky's cheek and clarified, "You didn't do anything. That wasn't you. And don't worry, once they broke free, Uncle Loki and Uncle Thor took care of everything. Azazel might've crushed Sam's windpipe, but luckily, Hildy found us. She managed to fix him right up."

"Jesus, Stevie," Bucky sighed in relief. He would've felt like shit if he had truly killed Sam. And perhaps Bucky should've worried a bit more about how Sam was going to feel about his best friend being possessed and strangling him, come Monday morning, but his eyes roamed over Steve's new body. His brows furrowed further, "What the hell happened?"

"Remember what I told you?" Steve prompted, licking over his lip as he gathered his thoughts.

_Remember what I told you?_ Bucky paused before answering. A lot had happened in such a short amount of time. He remembered the Carter house. The wine cabinet. How bad energy radiated off of it like heat. Dark, terrifying images filled his head, giving him a headache. Then…

"You're a, uh, a --"

"Witch," Steve admitted. "Well, half-witch. My dad is mortal. My mom's bloodline though…"

Bucky rigidly sat back against his headboard. Not sure what to think anymore. Especially not once everything seemed to fall into place. The way Thor and Loki spoke about history like they were there. Why the cats seemed more coherent than others. How Hildy knew answers to questions that he hadn't spoken aloud. It all led to one thing: magic.

"So, that, um," Bucky articulated.

There was so much that Bucky didn't know, but wanted to. His questions all swam together and muddled his brain. Maybe it was because of the possession and the stress, but Bucky couldn't concentrate on anything in particular.

"Means, what, exactly?" Bucky attempted again. _More sense than before, at least._

"Well," Steve sighed, dropping his hand from Bucky's face, and taking his hand instead. Holding one of Bucky's hands in both of his, Steve kept his gaze down.

Something definitely wasn't right.

"Stevie?"

Steve worried his lower lip with his teeth for a beat longer and finally confessed, "I'm transferring schools. Permanently."

"Oh." Trying to save face, Bucky grasped at straws. Trying to make the best out of a seemingly terrible situation, "We can still see each other on the weekends. And… and…"

Clenching his jaw tightly, Steve sat there for a moment just looking at Bucky. Bucky knew that expression all too well. It was the look that Steve had before he got involved in a fight that he had no business in being in. It was the look of trying not to cry at school for being teased. A look of control. Of being emotional and trying not to be.

Lip quivering regardless, Steve suggested, "I think we should take a break."

"What? Why?" Bucky shook his head. This didn't make any sense. Out of everything that didn't make sense, this made the least amount. "No, Steve. That -- No. Why? Because you're going to another school? That's --"

"No," Steve chose to hold Bucky's face again. A tear fell down, rolling over Steve's cheek, but he didn't dare remove one of his hands to wipe it away. He just kept holding Bucky as he explained, "I've got a lot of stuff to figure out, and I don't want you to be mixed up in --"

"What if I want to be mixed up in it?" Bucky sniffled.

Steve shook his head and reasoned, "I'd hate to do that to ya."

"But we --"

"This doesn't mean that I don't love you," Steve said before Bucky could get the accusation out. It still left a bad taste in Bucky's mouth though. Steve wiped Bucky's escaped tears, "I love you, so, so much."

"But," Bucky prompted, hearing it in Steve's steady breathing even if the word itself hadn't left his mouth.

"But," Steve confirmed, "This is what's best. For now. Just until I can figure things out."

Although Bucky's heart was breaking, he knew better than to argue. He'd do anything for Steve. Even listening to his ridiculous request. Nodding, Bucky agreed to his own demise and licked the saltiness from his tears off his lips, "Okay."

Steve nodded too. Seemingly debating something before leaning forward and kissing Bucky's forehead. Affectionately pressing his lips to Bucky's skin caused Bucky to close his eyes and more tears to escape.

"I do love you, Buck," Steve assured, pulling back, "I always will."

Bucky sniffled and held up his hand, "Promise?"

A small smile tugged at Steve's lips. Hooking his pinky with Bucky's extended one, Steve pledged, "Promise."

Steve pressed a kiss to the back of Bucky's hand and climbed off Bucky's bed. As he crossed the room to leave, he wiped his face, and Bucky couldn't let that be their last kiss for their foreseeable future. So, he climbed off his bed too and bullshitted, "I hear a deal doesn't count unless you seal it with a kiss."

A tiny chuckle startled out of Steve as he teased, "I think you've watched too much, _Supernatural_."

"Maybe," Bucky conceded, challenging, "You gonna seal the deal, or --"

Surging forward, Steve kissed Bucky, cutting off Bucky's teasing completely. Sure, the height difference was throwing Bucky through a loop, but he didn't mind. He snaked his arms around Steve's newer, stronger torso and held him tight. While Steve tangled his fingers in Bucky's hair, Bucky let out a soft moan, giving Steve enough of an entrance to slip him the tongue.

Bucky wasn't sure how long they stood there kissing, but when they pulled away to catch their breath, Bucky believed Steve when he vowed, "Promise."

**To be continued…**


End file.
